


Take the Hidden Paths

by Independence1776



Category: Merlin (TV), The Lord of the Rings - J. R. R. Tolkien
Genre: Alternate Universe - Book/Movie Fusion, Background Het, Canonical Character Death, F/F, F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2010-09-02
Updated: 2010-09-02
Packaged: 2017-12-10 03:45:55
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 7
Words: 23,138
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/781394
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Independence1776/pseuds/Independence1776
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>When Gorlois Baggins departed the Shire, he left his daughter Morgana a ring, one he thought was nothing more than a trinket that he’d won from Gollum. When Gandalf discovers it’s the One Ring, Morgana is forced to flee the Shire and head to Rivendell, accompanied by her lover Gwen and her cousins Merlin and Arthur. Together, along with the other members of the Fellowship, they set off on a near-impossible quest to destroy the Ring in the fires of Mount Doom.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Prologue

**Author's Note:**

> Knowledge of LotR is not necessary. I chose to use bookverse rather than movieverse simply because I'm more familiar with it. Plus, the changes made to the plot in the movies would have made this story harder to write. Some lines (mainly Gollum’s) and all titles are quoted from LotR.
> 
> I wrote this for the 2010 Merlin Big Bangusing a kinkme_merlin prompt.
> 
> Many, many thanks to go my beta lilith_lessfair and my Britpicker torakowalski. My artist zephre did an absolutely amazing job. Further thanks to my flist for putting up with my complaining, and especially for encouraging me.
> 
> [Art can be found here](http://zephre.dreamwidth.org/453563.html).

When Mister Gorlois Baggins and his daughter Morgana announced that they would be celebrating his eleventy-first and her thirty-third birthday with a party of special magnificence, there was much talk and speculation in Hobbiton. Gwen thought most of it was pure nonsense, of course, but that's because she actually  _worked_  for the Bagginses, and knew exactly what went on behind the scenes. Furthermore, she had to deal with much of the party business alongside her regular duties as apprentice gardener (to her father, of course) and occasional (well, not occasional) help to Morgana.  
  
It wasn't that she minded the Party itself-- after all, Morgana was legally becoming an adult-- but it just meant more work for her father and her. So she planted flowers, organized the presents to be given to the invitees (all of the locals and plenty others besides), and numerous other tasks that the Bagginses required. But she still treasured the time she spent with Morgana, helping her decide what to wear, and helping her sew the final touches on the dress. No, gown, Gwen decided one evening, after it had been completed. Morgana wouldn't wear anything as ordinary as a dress on the day of her coming of age. It was a gorgeous red gown, almost scandalous in cut, leaving her shoulders bare. She even had a string of matching beads to wear in her hair!  
  
Gwen couldn't help but be a bit jealous. She was only wearing her best dress, one she'd worn plenty of times before. But Morgana's family had money-- left over from Mister Gorlois' adventure years before he'd married and had a daughter. It was a pity that Morgana's mother had drowned in the river when the small family had been visiting their Brandybuck relations over two decades ago, when Morgana was just seven. So Gwen decided that Gorlois had gone all out for his daughter, because her mother wasn't there. A dress couldn't make up for it, but maybe it would help Morgana focus on the day, not the past.  
  
But Gwen couldn't hide her grin when she thought of taking it off Morgana.  
  
The day of the Party dawned, the clouds of the previous day having disappeared. The tents had been set up days beforehand, the food was being prepared, and people were flocking to the field. Gwen has woken early, to help Morgana dress. Not that she couldn't do it on her own, but she wanted Gwen with her at first, because both of them knew it was the only quiet time they'd have together today, until late in the night.  
  
Gorlois had welcomed her in and he'd immediately sat her down for a quick second breakfast before he scurried off to finish the last minute tasks, namely keeping the wizard Gandalf out of trouble. She really was looking forward to his fireworks, no matter what the rest of the Shire whispered about the trouble he brought in his wake. She'd agreed to meet Rosie at dusk so they could watch them together. She hoped Rosie wouldn't be too frightened, but didn't expect to be herself. After all, she'd grown up on the stories Gorlois had told his daughter and her. Elves, and dragons, and trolls-- it was all so magical. Not magical like Merlin, Morgana's cousin and their friend, was magical (his strange gift seemed mainly useful for causing things near him to move and unfortunately causing others to fear him as he'd been unable to hide it while growing up), but magical in a deeper sense, especially the Elves. There was just something about them… She hoped, in the deepest part of her heart, that she'd be able to meet one-- just one-- someday. But she hadn't told anyone about her dream, especially not her father. He didn't quite approve of Gorlois and Morgana teaching her about Outside the Shire. So she pretended that Outside didn't entrance her as badly as her father feared.   
  
Neither her father nor she were at the smaller feast when Gorlois disappeared in a flash of light. But they certainly heard about it the next day, Gwen from Morgana herself. (They had been too busy celebrating the previous night for them to talk properly.) It was enough to counteract the rumors her father heard, and half-believed. Gandalf apparently had left soon after-- or when, no one was quite sure-- after Gorlois vanished. So Morgana was left in Bag End all by herself, not that she seemed too unduly concerned. After all, she had helped her father pack and knew he was planning on visiting friends Outside he hadn't seen for years. That much, she had told Gwen.   
  
Unfortunately, Morgana's dreams-- nightmares-- grew worse as time passed, so Gwen took to sleeping over, or returning home late, finally moving in the week after Gwen herself turned thirty-three, less than a year after the Party. It was understandable of course, with the growing fear her father could die Outside, but neither did Morgana let it stop her from doing what she wanted. But they kept their relationship secret.  
  
It was two years after the Party before they discovered the truth.


	2. Part 1: One Ring to Rule Them All

Morgana grumbled as she stood up from her comfortable seat near the fire. Gwen looked up from her book. “Stay there, Gwen. It's probably no one important.”  
  
She nodded, but didn't resume her reading. Morgana walked out of the room and opened the front door to find Gandalf on the other side. She grinned. “What are you doing here? You normally don't return so soon. It's only been two years since the Party!”  
  
“I needed to see you.” He glanced around and then lowered his voice. “I think we had best move inside.”  
  
Morgana's grin dropped off her face as she moved aside. She locked the door behind him and followed him to the study. He sat down in front of the fire, warming his hands. It was still early enough in the year that nights were nippy. He peered over his shoulder at Gwen. “And how are you doing?”  
  
“I live here now. It's better that way.”  
  
Gandalf's eyebrows rose. “I thought Tom wanted you to live at home rather than in your employer's house.”  
  
Gwen looked steadily at the wizard. “She's my lover.”  
  
Morgana smiled, surprised that Gwen had been so open about it with him. But then, only their friends Merlin and Arthur knew and were completely accepting. Tom turned a blind eye. The rest of the Shire… Well, they'd be ostracized at best. Maybe she was finally starting to see Morgana's point about not hiding. And if the wizard had a problem, then it could destroy everything.  
  
“Ah. Then you will need to hear the discussion I will have with Morgana in the morning.”  
  
“Why not now?” Morgana asked. “We're here and awake.”  
  
“Because there are some things it is better to discuss in daylight. And I dare say that neither of you would get much sleep if we talked now. Now, how long have you been in a relationship?”  
  
“Since our twenties,” Morgana answered. “Though she moved in only after her coming of age last year.”  
  
“We didn't need more gossip than what occurred. Half the Shire suspects, I think,” Gwen said. “But we won't confirm anything. I have my own bedroom here. I like it, because it's a space of my own.”  
  
“And we have fought.”  
  
“Of course you have! I don't know anyone in a solid relationship who hasn't. But the Shire as a whole doesn't approve of couples like you," Gandalf said.  
  
“No,” Gwen said. “I don't understand why. What's wrong with loving someone?”  
  
“Absolutely nothing, my dear. Most of the Elves feel the same way you do.”  
  
Gwen lit up. Morgana leaned back in her chair and smiled. Gwen always loved anything to do with Elves. And to hear Gandalf say that, maybe it would cause her to finally start overcoming the last vestiges of shame.  
  
Two hours later, Gandalf excused himself and went into the bedroom they'd kept for any Big People who visited. (Not that it happened often. Gandalf was the only one who used the room since Father had left.) Morgana left Gwen staring at the flames. She was tired enough that she hoped she wouldn't dream tonight. She was getting bloody sick of the fire-mountain standing in the middle of a barren plain, with a tall, dark tower visible in the background.  
  
The next morning, after eating a hearty breakfast Gwen cooked, the three of them settled themselves in the study, with a small fire burning in the hearth. Gandalf closed the window. “We must not be overheard. Too much resides in keeping our doings here secret.”  
  
“Secret from whom?”  
  
“Sauron, the Dark Lord residing in Mordor who desires nothing less than to control the world.”  
  
Gwen gasped, but Morgana simply nodded. “I feared that was so. My dreams of late have been filled with a mountain on fire.”  
  
“Mount Doom, most like. Is there anything else to them?”  
  
“No. But I'd heard rumors from the Dwarves and other people crossing the Shire. Terrible things are coming, to the point where Elves are fleeing, sailing to Elvenhome across the water.”  
  
“So you do know something. So this won't come as a complete shock.” He pursed his lips. “What do you remember about Gorlois' ring?”  
  
“How he won it from a creature named Gollum in a riddle game, that it can turn the wearer invisible. He never thought it was more than a trinket. Though he did say it could slip off unexpectedly, so I've always kept it on a chain around my neck.”  
  
“That's the only way you've worn it?”  
  
Morgana looked startled. “Yes. I haven't seen any need to turn myself invisible. It's bad enough I'm friends with Merlin. If anyone had seen, I really would be ostracized, not looked askance at.”  
  
“Ah, Merlin…” Gandalf looked thoughtful and a little worried. “His gift may yet come in handy, no matter what the rest of the Shire thinks. Now, may I see the ring?”  
  
Morgana immediately lifted the chain from around her neck and handed it to him. Gandalf undid the clasp, slid the ring off it, and returned the chain to her. The ring, strangely for something so small, loomed in the wizard's hand. “I fear this ring is more than a trinket. In fact, I am sure that it is not. Morgana, have you ever wondered why your father never really seemed to age?”  
  
“I assumed it was good blood. There are long-lived ancestors--”  
  
“I know, which was why I was unconcerned at first. But now I have come to the conclusion that this is one of the Great Rings of Power, and that is a much graver matter. A mortal holder of one of them doesn't age, but merely exist. And if often used to become invisible, the holder fades into the shadow.”  
  
“Father--”  
  
“Do not worry about him. He no longer is the bearer.”  
  
“I am.” Gwen reached over and held her hand. “So what must I do?”  
  
“Nothing, yet. There is one last test I need to make.” With that, he tossed the ring into the fire. After waiting a brief time, Gandalf used the tongs to pick it up. “Morgana, hold out your hand. It won't burn you.”  
  
He dropped it into her outstretched palm. Her mouth opened when she felt the cool ring touch her hand. She peered at it, and frowned when she saw writing appear.  
  
“I can't read it,” Morgana said quietly. “But it looks Elvish.”  
  
“The letters are,” Gandalf said, “but the language is that of Mordor, which I will not utter here. It says simply, 'One Ring to bring them all and in the darkness bind them.' It is part of a verse known for over an Age by the Elves. I believe it was written and engraved upon the Ring by Sauron himself.  
  
“This is the One Ring, the Master Ring that controls all others. Sauron has been looking for it for many a year, but he has believed it lost until recently. Now that he knows it exists, he has put forth much effort to finding it. On it rests the last hope we have-- for if he does not gain it, we still have a fighting chance of defeating him.”  
  
“I wish that he hadn't returned now,” Gwen said quietly. “How are two hobbits and a wizard supposed to keep it from the Dark Lord?”  
  
“That is what we must discuss. As for his returning, the Shadow always does. No one who lives in such times wishes it had happened to them, but all we are able to do is decide what to do with the time that is given to us. We have a chance, and we must take it.”  
  
“So what must I do,” Morgana asked, threading the Ring back onto the chain.  
  
“You must leave the Shire shortly. Not immediately, but no later than early autumn. Gollum left his caves and made his way to Mordor. He was captured there, and tortured, possibly by Sauron himself once it was revealed what his precious is. Sauron at last has heard of  _Shire, hobbits,_  and _Baggins_. He is likely seeking now.”  
  
Morgana looked over Gwen, who didn't seem to notice how painfully tight she was squeezing her lover's hand, or how she was biting her lip. “I wish Father had killed Gollum. Then this wouldn't have happened. The Ring would still be safe here.”  
  
“It was Pity that stayed his hand, Morgana. Many that live deserve death, and some that die deserve life. Can you give it to them?” He paused for a second. “Then do not be so eager to deal out death in judgement. Not even the wise can see all ends. Gollum may yet have some part to play in all this.”  
  
“I rather doubt it,” Morgana said, chastened. But she knew that if faced with the same choice, she would have killed the monster. “Can we destroy the Ring?”  
  
“Try, Morgana. Try to toss it into the fire.”  
  
She tossed the chain-- no, she put it around her neck. She gulped and lifted her head. “How?”  
  
Gandalf sank back into his seat, looking older than Morgana had ever seen him before. Gwen's eyes flickered between their faces. “You are the bearer, Morgana,” he said. “You will find it near impossible to harm it. And your small fire wouldn't even melt ordinary gold. The only place the Ring can be destroyed is Mount Doom, the place it was created.”  
  
“The fire-mountain in my dreams…” she whispered. “If I need to go there to destroy it, I will. Sauron must not gain it. But I wish I wasn't a bearer.”  
  
“So do I,” Gwen said. “But better you than an orc, or a murderer, or Gollum. Gandalf, could you take it?”  
  
“No,” he said. “The temptation to use it would prove too powerful. I am here to help Middle-earth, not to rule it.”  
  
They sat in silence for a little bit. Gwen loosened her hold on Morgana's hand, but they shifted on the sofa so they leaned against each other. “You said I must leave the Shire. I suppose I could stay here, but if I am being searched for, I cannot put everyone around me in danger. So I will leave.”  
  
“And I'll come with you,” Gwen said firmly. “I'm not letting you go alone.”  
  
“Then travel as Miss Underhill. Gwen, I'm afraid you may have to hide as a servant at times.”  
  
“I can do that.”  
  
Gandalf leaned forward. “Make for Rivendell. The Elves are the safest place for you right now, Morgana. And I think Gwen will be happy to see them.”  
  
“I will be,” she said with a small smile on her face. “If we can reach the valley before we're captured.”  
  
“Don't say that,” Morgana said sharply.  
  
“It's the simple truth, Morgana. Two hobbits against the world Outside?”  
  
“Don't forget you have a wizard, Gwen. I will be coming, though I have an errand I must run first. I must gather what news I can. I will return as soon as possible. Remember what I said about leaving no later than early autumn.”  
  
Gwen said hesitantly, “Could others come with us?”  
  
Gandalf blinked. “Just who did you have in mind?”  
  
“Arthur and Merlin. Arthur wouldn't dare let two women travel alone, and, well, you said Merlin's gift could come in handy.”  
  
“So I did. Yes, if you can tell them without letting the whole Shire know. By all means, Morgana, I think you will need their support by the end. It's better to have friends than to deal with this alone.”  
  


* * * * *

  
  
Nearly four months later, Morgana had made her plans but Gandalf had yet to return from his news-gathering. Still, she had no choice but to complete the sale of Bag End to Lobelia Sackville-Baggins, and to move to Crickhollow. It was fiction that she was moving back permanently to the place her mother had grown up, but it was on the east side of the Shire, which would make leaving it far less noticeable than if she had to travel through the Shire itself instead of slipping over the border. Another friend-- Lancelot Bolger-- would live in the house, trying to preserve the fiction for as long as possible. The travelers' safety depended on it.  
  
After two nights in the country- one glorious one spent with Gildor's company after the Elves' appearance had chased off a servant of Sauron dressed as a rider in black, and they'd promised to send word to other Elves-- Morgana was quite glad to have crossed the Ferry and reached her new house. Lancelot, Merlin, and Arthur greeted them, having prepared the place for them (Morgana hoped that nothing had been broken), shooed the couple into bathtubs (in separate rooms) with a promise of food after, and left them alone. Morgana was just glad to get clean after days spent traveling. She knew it could be quite a while before she had another chance to soak in a tub. After all, Bree was a short distance away, but Rivendell was far beyond Bree with no inns between them. After the water cooled, she pulled on a nightgown and flung a dressing robe over it. She didn't need to be formal with her friends, much less Gwen. Not to her surprise, the other four were eating supper when she came into the kitchen. Thankfully, Gwen had saved her some of the choice portions. Merlin simply shot a cheeky grin at Morgana as he used his magic to steal a roll from her plate.  
  
After everyone was full, Morgana looked at the other four. “We're leaving at dawn, or earlier if possible. Because we need to remain as unnoticeable as possible, we're going to have to go through the Old Forest, for a least a little ways.”  
  
“It's dangerous,” Arthur said. “Even my family doesn't go far into it.”  
  
“A forest versus Riders on the open Road-- I'd prefer the forest,” Gwen said, shuddering. "There's something about them that scares me."  
  
“It'll have to be the Forest,” Merlin said, a distant look in his eyes.  
  
Ignoring the chills Merlin's words and intonation sent up her spine, Morgana said, “Then I'm going to bed. Are you coming, Gwen?"  
  
“In a little bit. I want to talk to Lancelot first.”  
  
Gwen kissed her and went to the sitting room. Morgana went to the large bedroom, and swiftly fell asleep, once again dreaming of Mount Doom.  
  
It didn't take long for them to get ready in the morning. No one had unpacked, and Lancelot had woken up early to load the ponies. The largest part of the preparation was the eating of breakfast. The leftovers, those that could be transported, were packed. Gwen hugged Lancelot farewell, as did Morgana and Merlin. Arthur was more restrained, as usual. The four swiftly rode to the gate leading into the Old Forest. Almost immediately, Morgana saw Merlin shiver, and she felt odd herself. Gwen and Arthur seemed to be affected as well, but not nearly as severely. She rode up to Merlin. “What is it?”  
  
He shook his head. “Something malevolent. It's attempting to draw us in, but I can fight it off. It'll just be hard.”  
  
“Do so,” Arthur ordered. “I think if we keep on this path, we'll end up at the Withywindle, which is the strangest part of the Forest.”   
  
Merlin shot Arthur an annoyed look at being commanded to do something (Arthur usually didn't order the future Thain of the Shire around), stretched out a hand, and the strange feeling faded. Arthur immediately took the lead, picking the way through the tangled roots, as the faint path they'd been following petered out almost immediately. It was slow going, especially in the heat of the day. But they soldiered on. By dusk-- which was early due to the tree cover-- everyone was exhausted, especially Merlin. Once he ate his cold supper, he opened his bedroll and fell right to sleep. Morgana agreed with Arthur that watches should be assigned, and Gwen took the first. Morgana would have the last.  
  
By mid-afternoon the next day, they broke out of the Forest very near to the Road. Merlin slumped in his saddle, tired from using his magic, and they took a brief break, letting him nap a bit. But they couldn't wait too long, and Arthur was as antsy as Morgana about remaining still when their only safety in the wild was their ability to keep moving. So they rode on, not taxing the ponies, but going as fast as they could manage. When they saw the lights of Bree twinkling in the night, Morgana said, “We need to stop. Gwen and I need to change into our dresses. Trousers on women would be too noticeable.”  
  
It was the work of minutes to take their shirts off and pull the dresses on. Neither one of them bothered to clean up further. They'd been traveling, and it showed. Being too clean or pretty would also cause comment. But Morgana rode on with a somewhat lighter heart, knowing there were soft beds and hot food at their destination tonight. From the way Arthur and Merlin bantered and how Gwen chuckled, she knew they were looking forward to it as well.  
  
Two hours later, the four had reached  _The Prancing Pony_ , and were settled in a small parlor, eating a large dinner. Merlin kept yawning almost from the moment he sat down, while Arthur looked curious. Gwen simply relaxed, eating a good meal. Morgana poked at her third serving of blackberry tart. She stood up and said, “I'm going to see if our room is ready yet. I think we need an early night.”  
  
Arthur rolled his eyes. “You go right ahead. Someone needs to make an appearance in the common room. And it shouldn't be Merlin.”  
  
“Hey!” But he made no other protest, covering yet another yawn with the hand not holding a fork.  
  
Gwen put her napkin on the table and stood up. “I'll come with you, Morgana. Better for you to not walk about alone.”  
  
She nodded and the two of them left. While she waited outside the privy for Gwen to finish her business, Morgana played with the Ring on its chain, sliding it up and down. She heard booted footsteps coming towards her, and spun around. A leering man with heavy black eyebrows peered down at her. “It isn't safe for such a pretty thing to be wandering about alone.”  
  
Morgana snorted, but curled a hand around the Ring. “I have a friend with me.”  
  
“I'm sure you do,” he said, taking a step toward her.  
  
Morgana backed off, but her grip on the Ring slipped, and it ended up on a finger. The man gasped and looked frantically around. “She's a witch!" He stepped backwards and nearly slipped. He cursed and ran back into the inn. Morgana swiftly slipped the Ring off and glared at it. Gandalf was right-- it did seem to have a mind of its own. She smiled at Gwen when the door to the outhouse opened.  
  
“I heard something--”  
  
“It's nothing,” Morgana said, putting her around Gwen's shoulders. “Nothing we need to discuss out here.”  
  
When they reached the parlor, to Morgana's surprise, the innkeeper Butterbur was waiting for her with a letter. He apologized profusely for not sending it on, but left soon after, obviously still bothered. She swiftly opened the letter. “It's from Gandalf!”  
  
Merlin blinked, clearly trying not to fall asleep in his chair. “What's it say?”  
  
“That Gandalf wrote this in midsummer, that we're months late leaving the Shire, and that there's a man called Strider that we should find.”  
  
She folded the letter and placed it on the table. Arthur looked up. “I said I'd go to the common room, and I can ask Butterbur if he's seen him, and to send him here.”  
  
He slipped out of the room, closing the door behind him. Not more than five minutes later, he stepped into the room, followed by a lanky Man. “Butterbur wasn't happy when I asked. Seems the Rangers aren't much trusted hereabouts,” Arthur said as he sank back into his seat.  
  
Morgana looked up at the tall man. “What's your true name?”  
  
“Aragorn son of Arathorn. Gandalf has been a friend of mine for many years.”  
  
Morgana glanced over at Merlin, who nodded. “He's telling the truth.”  
  
Aragorn stared at him. “How are you able to tell?”  
  
“Dunno. It's something I've always been able to do.”  
  
Aragorn locked the door and pulled over a chair. “I was outside earlier, and saw you disappear, Morgana. Didn't Gandalf warn you not to use the Ring?”  
  
“He did. And it was an accident.”  
  
“I believe you,” he said, holding up his hands. “However, the Ringwraiths-you know them as the Black Riders-- will surely have sensed its use. We will spend the night here. I'm sorry you won't have beds to sleep on, but the rooms in this inn for hobbits are located easily. We'll be safer here.”  
  
Morgana spent a restless night, unable to get truly comfortable. Aragorn appeared to not have slept at all, while the other hobbits weren't bothered by anything. Unfortunately, their plans for a swift departure were ruined when it was discovered the hobbits' ponies-- along with every other beast in the stable-- had been stolen in the night. So the five of them left on foot, carrying as much food as they possibly could. There was no guarantee of any between Bree and Rivendell.  
  
They didn't stay on the road, instead crossing through a forest and a rather disgusting, insect-filled marsh. The sixth day out from Bree found them on Weathertop, the tallest hill in the area. They made a small camp in a dell on the western flank, and Morgana and Arthur followed Aragorn to the top. Morgana took in the vista, smiling a bit. She understood better now what her father had meant when he talked of the stark beauty of the wilderness. Unfortunately, Arthur spotted black shapes moving on the Road, and the three hurried to the dell to prepare. There was no chance that they would not be discovered this night. They could only hope that fire would be enough of a deterrent and weapon. While they gathered and stacked the firewood, as dusk grew on, Morgana caught Merlin looking askance at the wood. On pretense of stacking wood near him, she leaned over and whispered, “Remember, they want to take the Ring back to Sauron. Do what you need to do. No one here will think less of you.”   
  
“It isn't you I'm worried about,” he said quietly, flicking his eyes to Aragorn. “Gandalf may trust him, but we don't know him, not really. There's no telling how he'd react. It doesn't matter Gandalf's a wizard; no one's seen anything like me before and they're afraid.”  
  
He refused to say another word, so Morgana left him alone. She took up her position next to Gwen, who kissed her when she sat down. “We'll be fine,” Gwen said. The way her hands clenched the unlit torch she was holding told Morgana otherwise, but she wasn't going to say anything. They had to hope they would survive.  
  
The battle was joined shortly after the waxing moon rose. When black figures appeared over the rise, Aragorn grabbed flaming branches in each hand and charged up the slope, while Gwen grabbed one, though seemed too afraid to leave Morgana alone. Arthur followed Aragorn's lead, fighting against the chill and fear the Wraiths caused. Merlin simply raised a hand and lit one of the figures on fire. Morgana just stood there, fighting silently, the Ring whispering, cajoling to be worn. But the defense wasn't enough, and Morgana tried to fight the temptation to put on the Ring. She couldn't, and slipped it on her ring finger. Immediately, she saw the Wraiths as haggard, terrible kings. The tallest one sprang forward, evading everyone and coming straight for her. She cried out, “ _O Elbereth! Gilthoniel!_ ” but a sharp, cold blade stabbed her in the left shoulder. The pain broke through the compulsion to leave the Ring on, and she yanked it off just before collapsing to the ground.  
  
She woke up only a short while later, with the fire raging next to her. Aragorn's face was weary. “You were stabbed with a blade, one specifically meant to bring its victims into the shadow realm, under Sauron's rule. I do not think you will succumb easily, but we must get you to Rivendell as swiftly as possible. I cannot treat the wound more than I already have, and Merlin knows no healing magic. Elrond can do much more.”  
  
They left Weathertop at dawn. They spent days walking through the wilderness, on paths only Aragorn knew about. Morgana stayed silent. She had to trust him, and with her shoulder, she had to fight to continue walking. They returned to the Road to cross the Last Bridge, over the River Hoarwell. To Aragorn's surprise, he found no Riders, and a token-- a green beryl-- that indicated it had been made safe by an Elf. But they couldn't risk staying on the Road, and so returned to the hills north of the Road. Morgana wished otherwise, because the mostly level road made her wounded shoulder easier to bear. Finally, twelve days out from Weathertop, they had no choice but to return to the Road. They could not risk getting lost in the lands north of Rivendell.  
  
Morgana was thankful for that. Her left arm had grown near useless and felt cold almost all the time, even though the small stab wound had healed. Just as they were looking for a place off the Road to camp, Aragorn heard something that sounded like a horse coming upon them. The five of them scrambled off the Road, but Aragorn ran back onto it when a blond Elf on a white horse rode by.  
  
“ _Mae govannen_ , Glorfindel!”  
  
The hobbits followed the Man onto the Road and stared at him, Gwen in particular. After Glorfindel examined Morgana's shoulder, he put her on his horse Asfaloth, and they continued traveling through the night. He, too, was of the opinion that time was short. After another day of walking, with only two briefs rests, they camped for the night. Morgana fell into a deep sleep, sore after riding for so long when she wasn't used to it. But that didn't prevent her from climbing back into the saddle the next day. Near the Brúinen River, their luck ran out. Ringwraiths ambushed them, coming at them from behind and both sides. Morgana cued Asfaloth to run, but slowed him as the Wraiths grew closer on their black horses. The Ring… the Ring… But Glorfindel ordered his horse to run, so he did-- straight across the Ford. That revived Morgana from the spell the Wraiths and the Ring were putting on her. She stood defiantly in the stirrups. “By Elbereth and Lúthien the Fair, you shall have neither the Ring nor me!"  
  
The Wraiths laughed and continued calling to her. A loud rushing and grinding noise caught her attention, even through her wavering vision. The river was flooding and the Wraiths were caught in it. She stared as they were swept away by the raging waters and boulders contained in it. Morgana blinked, trying to make her graying sight return to normal, but it did nothing. And she lost her fight to remain conscious.


	3. Part 2: The Road Goes On and On

Morgana frowned. Rocks normally didn't feel so soft. Oh. She opened her eyes to stare at a whitewashed ceiling. She must be in Rivendell, then. It was only then she realized her shoulder no longer hurt, and she could feel her left arm.

“What happened,” she asked absently, not expecting anyone to answer.

“The Wraiths nearly captured you. A few more hours, and you would have become like them. I do wish you had held out at Weathertop.”

“So do I,” Morgana said fervently. “But what happened to Gwen? And the others?”

“Gwen's asleep. She's barely left your side. The others are about somewhere. Merlin in particular has managed to get into some trouble. The Elves don't quite know what to make of his gift. Their own magics are nothing like his ability to move objects without touching them or to light fires with no flint. In fact, his magic reminds me more of the Valar's abilites.”

Morgana shot him a strange look. Merlin, having powers similar to those of the demi-gods? Well, there was always the family tale of a fairy ancestor. Maybe fairy was another name for them. "Are the Elves treating him well? The Shire isn't the best place for him. People tolerate him, but few befriend him, and it's widely acknowledged the sole reason he's the future Thain is that he's the only son."

“They're quite happy to talk with him. Elves are curious and far more open on some matters than Hobbits are. He'll receive training, from me and others. He has no choice now that Sauron is active. But you need to rest. Elrond's orders.”

“But I am resting! Please, Gandalf. How long have I been unconscious, and why didn't you meet us?”

“Four nights, and we only found the fragment of the blade yesterday. As for the latter, I do not wish to recount that more than I must. There is a council meeting tomorrow. You will learn then.”

“Must I?”

“You are the bearer of the Ring. You must attend.”

Morgana nodded and sank back onto the pillow. Somehow, she'd thought that her job would be over once she'd reached Rivendell. But with Mount Doom appearing in her dreams, she feared she was meant to go to Mordor. After all, Gandalf had made it quite clear that the only thing to be done with the Ring was to destroy it. The Council couldn't decide differently.

A few hours later, she woke up again and was no longer tired. She sat up in bed and Gwen rushed to her side. She hugged her. “I'm glad to see you awake. I was so worried.”

Morgana kissed her softly. “What have you been doing?”

“I haven't really left your side. I only did so when Elrond and Gandalf told me.” She took a deep breath. “The Elves know about our relationship. But they haven't condemned it.”

“So what have they done?”

Gwen blushed, but there was a wicked twinkle in her eyes. “One couple-- they're like us, Morgana. There's other women who prefer women! One couple and I had a lovely conversation about technique, and no one's said anything bad. Your father and Gandalf told us the Elves were more accepting, but I didn't really believe them. It just seemed too good to be true.”

“I look forward to the fruits of that conversation,” Morgana said, grinning wickedly.

“Good. Now, do you think you can handle going to the feast or would you prefer to eat here?”

“I'll go to the feast. I feel fine.”

Gwen nodded and grabbed the lone dress Morgana had packed. It was even pressed! Morgana swiftly changed and they went to the feast hand in hand.

* * * * *

 

Morgana should have expected hours of sitting listening to people she mostly didn't know talk, but she hadn't. She'd figured that something would be decided about the Ring within an hour or two. After all, there really was only one course of action. So the Elves, Dwarves, Men, and Hobbits gathered-- and the Council began.

The Dwarves had news: namely, a Wraith had approached them, offering rings in return for news of Gorlois and the “trinket” he'd stolen. They'd refused him, of course, but he'd returned, and would do so again before the end of the year. Furthermore, war was gathering on their borders. Morgana glanced at her father, but said nothing, glad his travels had brought him here in the end, as he'd planned. He'd never wanted to return to the Shire, no longer able to truly fit in the confines of its society after his adventure. Glóin, the Dwarves' representative, sighed. “We need advice, Master Elrond.”

“You will hear all that you need in order to understand the purposes of the Enemy. But you can do nothing save resist, though you will not stand alone.” The half-Elf shifted his gaze to everyone on the Council in turn. “So that all may understand the peril, the Tale of the Ring shall be told from beginning to this present. And I will begin that tale, though others shall end it.”

Elrond spoke of Sauron, how he manipulated the Elves of Hollin to make the Rings of Power, how he secretly created the Master Ring in the fires of Mount Doom, the war fought desperately by the Last Alliance of Elves and Men, and how at the end of it, Sauron was defeated. But not permanently, for rather than destroying the Ring, Isildur took it as weregild for his dead father and brother.

Boromir was astounded at the news. “So that is what became of the Ring! We had heard of it, but thought it had perished.”

Elrond nodded gravely. “It was lost in the Gladden Fields. Isildur died there, along with all but three of his men. One of them brought the shards of Narsil here, where it has waited for over three thousand years for the proper time to be reforged.”

Morgana tried to hide her shock. A sword that old should have rusted away. But no, she was dealing with both Elves and Men of the West -- their weapons and other things lasted far longer than those created by lesser mortals. But that there had been such a chance to destroy the Ring, so that none of this need have happened… She shook her head minutely. Isildur possibly had no choice, not if by picking up the Ring he'd become its keeper. The Ring would not allow itself to be destroyed. (Which boded ill for whoever attempted to destroy it, but she shoved that thought from her mind. It must be done.)

Elrond continued, breaking into Morgana's thoughts. “While the northern realm of Arnor dwindled, the realm of Gondor endures, even though the line of kings died out there centuries ago, and the White Tree has died. Still, they fight on against the Dark, keeping the Anduin River secure.”

Boromir stood up then. “Forgive me, Master Elrond. We may not hold the river for much longer. When I left Minas Tirith, we held the western bank only, and that was a hundred and ten days ago. I fear that it may have been lost by now, for only Rohan will answer our call for aid.” He took a deep breath. “There was something beyond sheer numbers the day we lost the eastern shore-- someone who inspired madness in his allies and terror in his foes.”

“It was likely a Wraith,” Gandalf said.

Boromir nodded. “I do not ask for help, for the North is obviously in peril as well, and there are few who will willingly leave their homes undefended. Instead, I ask for help with a riddle that may yet prove to be the saving of Gondor.

  
_“'Seek for the Sword that was broken:_   
_In Imladris it dwells;_   
_There counsels shall be taken_   
_Stronger than Morgul-spells._   
_There shall be shown a token_   
_That Doom is near at hand_   
_For Isildur's Bane shall waken_   
_And the Halfling forth shall stand.'_   


 

We understood little, save for Imladris. So I set out, in hope that I would learn more.”

Boromir sat down, and Aragorn stood up. He pulled his sword out of its sheath, and it was broken in half. “Here is the Sword that was broken, Narsil. For I am Aragorn son of Arathorn, descended in that line from Isildur.”

Boromir stared. “I was not aware that any of the line of the kings was still alive.”

“We have remained hidden, for the North is not as safe as you may believe. There are many foes, and it is our duty to keep safe the Shire and the other inhabitants of Eriador. It is a thankless job, and if the Enemy had known who we truly are rather than just suspect, we would have been destroyed long ago.”

“And Isildur's Bane?”

Morgana paled, but stood up, drawing the Ring on its chain out from under her bodice. “It is here.”

Morgana kept her gaze focused on Boromir, for having everyone stare at her was slightly unnerving, though having her father stand next to her was somewhat a balm. She sat down, tucking the Ring away, while Gorlois said, “It is time I explained how I found the Ring, and how my daughter came to have it. Only some here have heard the full tale, while some have heard an altered version. The Ring was already at work on me then, days after I found it, and I felt I must have an uncontested claim to it.”

Elrond smiled. “Then tell us, Gorlois.”

He spoke of everything he'd done, especially to get the Ring from Gollum. Morgana hid a smile when Boromir rolled his eyes at the details, especially the riddles. When Gorlois ran down, Elrond turned to Morgana and invited her to talk. She spoke in less detail than her father, but she was interrogated, unlike him. Finally, though, she sat down, exhausted. Healed she may be, but she wasn't completely recovered.

“I do have a question,” she said into the silence broken only by the roaring of the river. “What happened to you, Gandalf?”

“That is a long story, Morgana, but it shall be told at last,” Gandalf said. “Many of you recall what Nimueh said when the Council drove Sauron out of Dol Guldur-- that the Ring had disappeared into the Sea long ago. We believed her, for she had long made a study of such matters. We had no reason to disbelieve her. Now… Now we do, aside from the obvious.

“After a time, I began to think of Gorlois' ring, and how he came to find it. So I began to wonder, and remembered something Nimueh had once told me, that while the other Rings of Power had gems, the Master Ring was unadorned, save that legend said it had markings. Though what they were was lost to time, and I had only one chance to learn what they were. I hurried to Minas Tirith, where Isildur stopped once. I searched among the archives, and found what I was looking for. The marks could only be read in fire. I hurried toward the Shire, but messengers reached me that Aragorn was searching for me. He had found Gollum, and a careful questioning provided the last fact that we needed, but one I dreaded to hear: the Ring had been found near the Gladden Fields. I redoubled my pace to the Shire, where the test proved true.”

Aragorn nodded and turned to the brown-haired Elf sitting near him. “Legolas, Gollum--”

“Has escaped,” he said softly. “This is the news I was tasked to bring. It was no accident-- it was planned and carried out by dark forces. Sauron wanted him loose.”

The Council was silent again, before Elrond spoke. “Yet this is not the end of your tale, Gandalf. What proof do you have that Nimueh is no longer to be trusted?”

The wizard briefly closed his eyes. “I remained for a short time in the Shire after we discovered what the Ring was. I then decided that I must find out as much as I could about conditions Morgana would face upon leaving the Shire, so I left to scout. Before I came to Bree, Radagast-- another member of my order-- told me Nimueh desired to speak to me, so I went to Isengard, where she abides. There, she entreated with me to tell her where the Ring was, so we could defeat Sauron. She knew the Nine were abroad, and yet she imprisoned me. Her thoughts dwell alongside Sauron's-- she too wishes to control the Ring, to rule in his stead. I remained on top of her tower for several weeks, and saw Nimueh's preparations for war. She has wolves and orcs in her employ, and has set herself to become a Dark Lady in opposition to the Dark Lord.” Gandalf looked around the circle. “Her betrayal makes our task harder.”

“And what might that be?” Glóin asked.

“To destroy the Ring in the Cracks of Mount Doom. Nothing else will serve, especially not hiding it. Sauron will discover its location no matter where. He may already know it is in Imladris. To make secure Middle-earth once and for all, we must destroy it.”

“Could we not use it as a weapon beforehand, to defeat his armies?” Boromir said.

“No,” Elrond replied. “Rings of power are not lightly used, and this one has only evil in its making. To use it will be to become like him.”

“Then what shall we do with it,” Legolas asked, glancing at Morgana.

“Destroy it,” she said. “I will take it. I have begun this quest. I will not give up now.”

“You shall not go alone,” Elrond said. “Companions will be chosen for you.”

Boromir stared, eyes flickering between the two. He said nothing, though, for now respecting the counsel of Elrond. But his expression spoke volumes. She could only wonder if his shock was because of her size or her sex. Maybe-- likely-- it was both. But she also knew that he would be one of her companions, if only because the route to Mordor was the same as the way to Gondor, at least for a while. He would therefore find out Morgana was no delicate flower. She had survived a Wraith blade. She would do this-- and succeed.

* * * * *

 

“You're a brave woman, Morgana,” Arwen said, sitting beside her on a bench overlooking a herb garden the next morning.

“I don't feel brave. It's just something I have to do.”

“That's what makes you so.” She looked out over the garden. “It isn't just the Ring, but your relationship with Gwen. I know that the Shire isn't--”

“We aren't living openly as lovers. I'm considered eccentric, but I couldn't shame Gwen like that. She's well-liked in Hobbiton, and her being ostracized would devastate her.”

“Shouldn't that be her decision?”

Morgana turned, startled. “I hadn't thought of it that way. It's somewhat new to both of us. I mean, we grew up together, but we haven't been lovers for long. Only a few years now.”

“Compared to the Elves, none of your relationships are long.” She stared off into the distance for a moment. “Even mine.”

“What's different about yours?”

“I'm betrothed to Aragorn, though we are not able to marry until he becomes king.”

“But you're immortal!”

“No. I'm a half-elf, like my father. The Valar gave him the choice between mortality and immortality, and he chose the latter. The gift of choice is so precious that it was extended to his children. I'd always assumed I would choose like him, but Aragorn changed that.”

“You're braver than I am. Everyone here seems to be happy for you, but that's an appearance, isn't it?”

Arwen nodded. “My friends are happy, and my family's feelings are bittersweet. My brothers will likely follow our father's choice. But the ordinary Elves? Some of them can't understand what I see in him. Others think I should make Aegnor's choice and love him from afar. But I will follow my heart, and marry him.” She paused. “If we survive.”

“I will try my best to destroy the Ring, Arwen.”

“I know you will, Morgana. I'm glad Gwen is traveling with you. I think she will be of much help.”

“I couldn't leave her behind, and she would have to be drugged and imprisoned to prevent her following.”

“What of Arthur and Merlin?”

“I hope they're coming.” Morgana rubbed her forehead. “For the past few months, all I've seen in my dreams is Mount Doom. Now that I'm here, I keep seeing three images, over and over. Arthur's fighting a Wraith alongside a woman. Merlin's in a white city with a dead white tree. And then I see a gray rain-curtain falling away to reveal a green country with swift sunrise. I don't know what any of them mean, but my dreams always come true. Always.”

Arwen stared at her. “You need to tell my father. He's considering sending Arthur and Merlin back to the Shire, to warn the hobbits.”

“They wouldn't listen, especially to Merlin. They're both young-- Merlin's a year away from his majority and he isn't trusted by many because of his magic. They fear it.”

Arwen stood up. “Father needs to know now. I think they'll come with you if he hears this.” Morgana hopped off the bench and they ran into the house.


	4. Part 3: The Shadow Lies Upon His Tomb

Two months later, after all the scouts had returned and found no sign of the Wraiths, the nine members of the Fellowship left Rivendell. They spent the next several weeks traveling the Misty Mountains, stopping for a day in Hollin while they hid from the  _crebain_  likely sent by Nimueh. They hurried toward Caradhas, where they spent a miserable night sheltered under an overhang and only saved by the firewood they'd gathered before they began their ascent. There, Merlin proved his worth for the first time, because he could magically light the fire without revealing himself, unlike Gandalf. After all, no one was watching for a Hobbit casting spells. The company had no choice but to retreat down the mountain, where they spent another miserable night fighting off wolves. Legolas proved invaluable with his bow. So they made the difficult but inevitable decision to face the mines of Moria, a dark place only Gimli wished to see-- and that because it was built by Dwarves Ages ago (and he had relatives who had made an expedition there several years ago). He knew as well as the rest of the company it may no longer be safe, for Balin and his company had never returned from their expedition.  
  
Morgana couldn't help but feel apprehensive, no matter that they had two magic-users and four warriors. Moria was nearly as dark in name as Mordor was in the whispers heard in the Shire. If only Caradhas hadn't defeated them…  
  
But the nine struggled on, scrambling over red stones until they came to an old and decayed track next to a trickling stream-- one that Gandalf said should have been raging. Morgana frowned. Had things changed so much since the last time he'd been there? She glanced ahead, at the wizard and the dwarf keeping pace with him. She had learned so much from-- and about-- Gandalf over the past few months. When she was younger, she'd thought him perfect, but he was proving himself to be just as fallible as any mortal. Now, she didn't quite know what to think. One wizard wasn't enough to stand against Sauron.  
  
One of her hands brushed against the Ring she wore under her shirt, but above the mithril coat Father had given her before she left, and she flinched. Better to keep her mind on the path than wondering if this would work. She had to take it one day at a time. And one day, her-- everyone's-- hard work would be rewarded with the destruction of the Ring. But she had to focus on the now, not the future. She shuddered slightly. All she saw now that she'd left Rivendell was the mountain of fire. She hadn't told Gwen yet, but she was starting to wonder if any of them would survive.  
  
Several hours later, after skirting the lake a dam had created, the nine set up a camp by two large holly trees. Gandalf studied the rock wall behind them, and Gimli with him, but there was no sign of the doors. At least, not until the moon rose and shone its light upon them. Then faint silver tracings appeared: a hammer and anvil, two trees, and a many-pointed star. Gandalf translated the words above the drawings. “ _The doors of Durin, Lord of Moria. Speak, friend, and enter_. The name of the door's creators are written beneath.”  
  
“What does it mean by 'speak, friend, and enter'?” Arthur asked, frowning.  
  
“That's simple. If you know the password, the doors will open for you,” Gimli said. “I wish that I knew it, but the knowledge has passed from us.”  
  
Boromir asked, “What about you, Gandalf? You said you've traveled in Moria before.”  
  
“I do not know it. I traveled in the opposite direction. The doors open outwards, and cannot be forced from this side.” He glared at Boromir.  
  
Merlin said, “What are you going to do?”  
  
Gandalf shifted his glare to Merlin. Undaunted by the look, Merlin said, “Maybe I could help.”  
  
“You don't know enough. Your magic is different than mine, but it is less powerful, and will be of no use.”  
  
A hurt expression crossed Merlin's face, and he walked to the edge of the lake. Morgana turned her back on him, wishing she could comfort him, but knowing he'd prefer to be left alone for at least a couple minutes. Gandalf could have worded that better, especially with the problems Merlin had faced all his life because of his gift. He rejoined the increasingly frustrated group after a few minutes, and Morgana was glad to see Gandalf at least smile at him in apology.  
  
Boromir strode to the edge of the lake and picked up a stone, tossing it in his hand a couple times. “Can't you remember anything that will help?”  
  
Before Gandalf could answer, Boromir threw the stone as far as he could, and it landed with a tiny splash. Morgana winced. She felt something. From the way Merlin reacted, face suddenly pale in the moonlight, she knew she wasn't imagining it. “You shouldn't have thrown that,” Merlin said. “There's something out there. Maybe it was put there to guard this place, so that we would be trapped.”  
  
Aragorn seemingly picked up where her cousin was going. “If we can't cross Caradhas, can't travel in Moria, that leaves us the Gap of Rohan, which passes far too close for Isengard.”  
  
Boromir froze. Legolas quietly said, “And if Nimueh didn't put this creature here, Sauron likely ordered it to come. He suspects someone may come this way with the Ring, and he fears what we may do with it.”  
  
Gandalf spoke in the quiet the conversation had engendered. “Mellon.”  
  
The doors opened slowly, and the company stared at the two stairs, one leading up and one leading down.  
  
“What does  _mellon_  mean?” Arthur asked.  
  
“Friend,” Legolas said.  
  
“Fine password,” Gimli snorted.  
  
“It was, for a more peaceful time,” Aragorn said, gathering up the supplies they'd scattered in the couple hours they'd been there. Legolas and Gimli stared daggers at each other before putting their packs on.  
  
“Hurry,” Boromir said, pointing to a fast-moving ripple in the water heading straight for them.  
  
But he was too late-- something grabbed Morgana's ankle and she fell. Gwen drew her knife and hacked at the tentacle. It released her and they scrambled into Moria, followed by Legolas, who had his bow aimed. The rest of the fellowship hurried up the stairs, but the doors slammed shut, and they all heard rocks crashing down. Gandalf sighed. “We have no choice now. Forward we must go.”  
  
They climbed for a few minutes until they reached a landing. There, they rested briefly, eating a quick meal, before continuing. Gandalf led, his staff lit just enough to see the ground in front of them, with Gimli behind him. Legolas and the Hobbits followed, with the Men bringing up the rear.  
  
The mine was dangerous, which apart from not quite knowing the way to go, made the journey in the near-dark even harder. There were cracks and fissures in the floor, tunnels leading off the main route they were traveling, and the possibility of orcs. (Though both Morgana and Gandalf had their Ages-old Elvish blades out, and neither shone blue to indicate their presence, which was a slight comfort.) It was harder for the hobbits, because they occasionally had to jump across cracks that the Big People could step over.  
  
It was hard going, Morgana thought, wiping a hand across her brow. It was hotter than it ought to be underground, which was a cause for worry, though no one brought it up. Not that anyone talked much-- the mines seemed to encourage silence. The only things she heard were footsteps (that sometimes pattered on for a brief moment after the company had stopped, though it didn't sound like an echo) and their breathing. It was unnerving, and the Ring felt more present than usual in her mind. Her mind… It hadn't done this in the Shire or Rivendell, but the farther south they traveled, the more it had begun to weigh on her mind, for it wished to return to Sauron. She could feel that there was evil both ahead of and behind her. That ability was the Ring was good for, apart from the invisibility she'd never deliberately used. She  _must_  be on her guard to not “accidentally” use it. In this place, it would be a death wish.  
  
Several hours after they entered the mines, Gandalf stopped at a crossroads. He turned to them. “I have no memory of this place. I am weary, and I suspect that all of you are wearier. We will rest here, in the guard room.” He pointed to a half-open stone door. “I will go first,” he said, shooting a look at Arthur and Merlin, who had rushed ahead. He poked around for a moment before letting anyone else in. Once the company was in the room, he pointed to a hole in the middle of the floor. “An uncovered well. If anyone had fallen in, they would still be falling.”  
  
Arthur nodded, but Merlin said nothing, staring at it with wide eyes. As the company moved around the perimeter of the room, setting up camp, he moved closer. Morgana watched him out of the corner of her eye, wondering what he was doing. But he did nothing except crouch near the rim. When Arthur called to him, he stood up and accidentally knocked a loose stone into it. In the near silence in the room, the plunk and resulting echoes seemed strangely magnified. Merlin winced and Gandalf sighed. “Merlin--”  
  
The sounds of hammers sounded, and they waited in silence for the sound to die down. “Those were signals,” Boromir said. “Someone knows we are here.” He glared at Merlin.  
  
“It was an accident,” Gwen said, moving between the two. “He didn't throw it in.”  
  
“Nevertheless,” Gandalf said, “it may have disturbed something better left sleeping. Take the first watch, Merlin. Everyone else, try to sleep.”  
  
Morgana shook her head, but lay down on the hard stone next to Gwen, who spooned against her. She'd have bruises come morning, no doubt, but this wasn't any worse than other campsites.  
  
Six hours later, after a brief bite to eat, they set off, heading up now instead of down. It was easier going, with no cracks in the floor and no tunnels branching off. Eight hours after they woke up, just when everyone was starting to wonder if they were going to find a place to rest for the night, the walls on either side vanished. Morgana briefly saw Gandalf smile as he turned to them.  
  
“We are finally in the habitable parts of the mine. City, I should say at this point. This is one of the great halls. There should be windows carved into the side of the mountain, but it is obviously night. We'll spend the night here.”  
  
Once they were settled, Merlin hesitantly asked, “Gimli, why did the Dwarves come here?”  
  
“Mithril,” he answered promptly. “It is the wealth of nations, and is even more priceless because there is little left. We delved too deep, and disturbed Durin's Bane. The tales do not tell what type of creature it is, just that it is deadly.”  
  
“But what's mithril?” Arthur asked.  
  
“The most valuable metal in the world,” Gandalf said. “Gorlois had a mail coat of it that he received on his adventure. It's worth more than the Shire, and is likely gathering dust in the Mathom-house, the Shire's museum.”  
  
Morgana's mouth dropped open, and she brushed the metal she wore underneath her shirt. “I never knew that,” she said. “But it isn't in the Mathom-house. My father took it with him when he left the Shire.”  
  
Silence fell on the nine after that, and Morgana couldn't help but think of the Shire. Of the gardens, the people, the lifestyle. She'd longed to leave for her entire childhood, but now, she wished that she'd never desired that. Life Outside was darker and harder than she'd ever imagined. Well, it didn't help that the Ring was the cause. Maybe, after they succeeded, she and Gwen could travel. There was more to see and do than rush headlong into danger. She smiled, knowing Gwen would like that.  
  
When she woke up the next morning, Gandalf greeted her cheerfully. “We should reach the Great Gates and leave Moria today.”  
  
“I am glad,” Gimli said quietly. “Moria has gone dark.”  
  
Legolas opened his mouth to say something, but Aragorn elbowed him. They swiftly moved on, coming into a chamber with a tomb. Once the inscription had been read, Gimli bowed his head and placed a hand on it. “At least we know now that Balin at least reached here. But what happened?”  
  
Gandalf peered around the dimly lit chamber. “Orcs, most likely. We have been fortunate to not encounter any.” He moved swiftly to something and picked it up. He turned the pages, muttering to himself. “Yes, it was orcs.” He handed the book to Gimli. “This belongs to you now.” He nodded and thrust it into his pack as drums sounded in the deep. “We have been discovered, and we have miles to travel. We must travel down now, for we are above the level of the Gates,” Gandalf said.  
  
Everyone drew their weapons, and Gwen bit her lip when Sting and Glamdring shone. Gandalf hurried to the door and glanced out. “Orcs, and Uruks from Mordor are among them. There may also be a cave-troll.”  
  
The battle was soon joined, but they managed to fight the first wave off. Morgana was dealt a harsh blow when an orc-chieftain nearly pinned her, and only her mithril coat saved her. They ran from the room-- Morgana was carried, stunned by the blow-- and down several flights of stairs. Gandalf somehow managed to block the passage behind them, not allowing Merlin to help, and they continued downwards, heading toward the Gates.  
  
They took a brief rest so everyone could catch their breath, and Aragorn asked Gandalf what happened when he blocked the passage.  
  
“I fear I have met my match, son of Arathorn. The spell I used nearly failed, and the chamber collapsed. Something dark and powerful is buried there, and I hope that it cannot escape. I fear it may.”  
  
They resumed traveling, moving as swiftly as possible, until they reached a hall that was hot. Merlin stopped. “I feel--”  
  
“I know,” Gandalf said, putting a hand on his shoulder. “Morgana?”  
  
“It's dark, even with the fires burning in the fissures in the floor. Something's coming.”  
  
Gandalf peered at the company. “Run. Across the Bridge, up the stairs, along the wide road, and through the First Hall. Go. I will follow.”  
  
Gimli led the way, the hobbits following. Morgana tried to keep up with him, but she kept glancing over her shoulder at Gandalf. He looked weary, older than she had ever seen him. She nearly stumbled and Gwen caught her arm. After that, she paid attention to her path. And then the narrow Bridge loomed in front of them. Merlin gamely followed Gimli to the other side, but Arthur was cautious and walked more slowly. Gwen stayed close behind Morgana. She could hear the footsteps of the others, but didn't look behind her until she'd safely reached the other side. The chasm was dark and bottomless, and she had no desire to fall in.  
  
“Merlin,” Arthur said, flinching from an arrow that clattered off the stone inches above his head. “Can you shield us?”  
  
Morgana saw him stretch out his hand out of the corner of her eye. But her attention was focused on the orcs and how they were retreating to either side. Something was coming-- no, something was there. It leaped across the flaming fissure, and was lit up, by the fire behind it and the fire on it. It held a whip and a sword, and Gandalf stopped running the middle of the Bridge. Aragorn and Boromir stopped just at this side.  
  
Gwen said, “What is it?”  
  
Legolas said, voice cracking, “A Balrog. We cannot hope to fight it. If Gandalf falls, we will die.”  
  
Gandalf held his position as the Balrog advanced. Morgana heard him shout, “You cannot pass. I am a servant of the Secret Fire, wielder of the flame of Anor. You cannot pass. The dark fire will not avail you, son of Udûn. Go back to the Shadow! You cannot pass.”  
  
The Balrog said nothing, and Morgana's fingernails bit into the palm of her hands as it stepped onto the bridge. The two swords clashed, and the Balrog's broke. Gandalf sheathed Glamdring and grabbed his staff with both hands, striking the stone of the bridge with its butt. The staff broke as the bridge cracked in half. The Balrog fell, but the whip caught Gandalf and dragged him down. He looked up at them, cried, “Run!” and disappeared into the chasm.  
  
“No!” she heard Merlin whisper. Arthur tried to grab him as he rushed forward, but Boromir picked him up and ran up the stairs. Morgana swiftly followed. Merlin's shield had broken and arrows once again became a threat.  
  
They ran the route Gandalf had described, Merlin having been put down when they reached the top of the stairs. He cried as he ran. Once they were out in the sunshine, out of range of arrows from the mines, they stopped. Morgana dropped to the ground. Gandalf was dead. He'd been there her entire life, and now he was gone. She'd considered him a friend, no matter that he was a wizard and many times her age. He'd been there for her and protected her. So why hadn't seen she this? Because of the Ring. She glared at it, though it lay hidden under her shirt. If it wasn't for the Ring, none of this would have happened. Gandalf, I will avenge you, she swore. The Ring will be destroyed.  
  
She looked up and saw Merlin. For all that Gandalf meant to her, she knew he meant more to him. He was the one of the first people to truly accept Merlin and his magic, and he was teaching him how to use it. Now he had no one to turn to for help. Morgana stood up and walked over to him, putting an arm over his shoulders. They stood like that until Aragorn said they had to continue moving, though they did dress their wounds (and were suitably shocked when Morgana revealed the mithril coat that had saved her life).  
  
They crossed the Nimrodel at dusk, into Lothlórien. Boromir was far from happy at entering into Lórien, for he claimed that in Minas Tirith, those who entered never left unscathed. Aragorn was displeased to hear that. After all, the leaders of the country were Arwen's mother's parents, and he himself had spent time there in earlier years. The company spent the night in a  _talan_ , a platform in the trees, while Elves kept watch and killed the orcs who had followed them from Moria. After two days' march, the Elf lead them into Lórien proper: the city of Caras Galadhon. There, they met Galadriel and Celeborn, the rulers of Lórien, for the first time. Morgana didn't quite know what to think of their meeting. She knew Galadriel had entered her mind, after they had recounted their tale, but she also felt from that contact that she meant no harm. Boromir wasn't so sure, but then, Morgana had never gotten along with him, because of his attitude toward the Ring, his belief men were superior, and disgust at her and Gwen's relationship. She'd kept away from him as much as possible, because Legolas and Gimli had enough of a problem with each other that she knew Gandalf wouldn't be pleased to deal with another escalating antagonism. Plus, he would be leaving for Minas Tirith. She could put up with him until then. Now, though, she was starting to worry. What if he didn't leave?  
  
Still, she put it out of her mind. Lórien was different-- peaceful and timeless. The lack of danger let them mourn, but as days passed, she grew more anxious. Every moment they spent here gave Sauron a chance to grow more powerful. And yet, no one suggested leaving. Still, as she looked at Gwen reclining naked next to her in the privacy of their own pavilion, there were benefits to being here.  
  
The next day, while she and Gwen were out walking at dusk, listening to the Elves sing in the trees, Morgana spotted Galadriel. The hobbits followed her-- with invitation-- to a small grotto at the foot of the hill that made up the city. There, she showed them the Mirror.  
  
“I can let you see, though I cannot tell you what you will see. It could be the past, the present, possible futures. Not everything you see will come to pass. But better that you not strive to see any one thing, and let the Mirror choose. Those images are more valuable.”  
  
Gwen nodded. “I'll look.”  
  
She stepped onto the foot of the pedestal and peered over the brim. “Do not touch the water,” Galadriel said.  
  
Gwen stood there for several minutes, before she flung herself away. “The Shire's burning,” she cried, turning to Morgana. “I should return home, to help. But I can't. I swore to help you and to never let you travel alone, and I won't. I'll stay here, with you. But when we return, heads will roll.”  
  
Morgana held Gwen until her tears abated. She detached herself and looked up at Galadriel. “I'll look now.”  
  
“Are you sure?”  
  
“I have to.” That's all there was to it. Carrying the Ring to Mordor meant she needed every advantage she could find.  
  
She stepped onto the pedestal, and looked into the water. She saw scenes she couldn't understand-- of cities burning, of ships plundering, of Gandalf in white (it couldn't possibly be Nimueh, not with that beard), and then the Mirror went dark. An Eye appeared, cat-eyed and rimmed with fire. It roved to and fro, and Morgana jerked away, tumbling off the pedestal. Gwen rushed to her side. “I'm fine,” she said. “Was that--”  
  
“Yes. He is on my mind as well. For I bear one of the Three, the hidden Elven Rings of Power. Your Ring, though… I could take it, and become a queen. All would love me and despair." She streched out a hand toward Morgana, and then dropped it to her side. “But that is not my path. For many years, I had wondered what I would do if the Ring came within reach. Now I know. I resist the temptation to take it from you, Morgana. The world will follow its course, and I will return home, in the West.”  
  
“Home?” Gwen asked.  
  
Galadriel sat down on the grass. “I was born in Valinor, in Elvenhome, and left long ago. I refused to return when I had the opportunity. I did not wish to leave Middle-earth.” She sighed. “I now have little choice. The world is becoming a mortal's world. Men are the dominant power now, and shall be forevermore. There is no room for Elves. That's what this war means to us, Morgana. Middle-earth is safe, but we lose our homes. Elves will fade into legend and myth. It is an acceptable sacrifice, though one many of us wish we didn't have to make.”  
  
“But that's the nature of sacrifices, isn't it?” Gwen said. “That you don't want to do it, but you do it anyway?”  
  
Galadriel nodded, a small, sad smile on her face. A few moments later, she stood up. “It is time for you to leave. Boats will be prepared for you.”  
  
Morgana looked at Gwen, unsurprised. “Thank you.”  
  
The eight left the next day, carrying with them gifts from Galadriel and Celeborn: Aragorn a new sheath for his sword, Legolas a new bow, Arthur and Merlin well-crafted Elvish swords to replace the old ones they'd brought from the Shire, Boromir a gold belt, and Gimli three hairs from Galadriel's head. Gwen didn't open the box of earth save to see what was in it. She closed it immediately and tucked it into her pack. It was of no use yet, Morgana knew, thinking about Gwen's vision in the mirror. Morgana received a phial, filled with water that shone with the light from Eärendil's star. She tucked it away reverently, knowing that it would come in use one day. For that was the theme: all the gifts were practical (save Gimli's, but then, courtesy between the Elves and Dwarves was hard-won, and yet he had managed). And all of them received lembas, the Elf-food they would need to eat far less of than regular supplies. They spent ten days on the Anduin River, sailing to Amon Hen, where they had to decide what their course was. For the route to Minas Tirith lay on one side of the River, while the route to Mordor lay on the other. With Gandalf gone, the decision was harder than it should have been. From the frown Aragorn wore when he thought no one was looking, Morgana knew he was torn in two. All Morgana knew was that she was taking Gwen with her, and probably her cousins. Hobbits had no place in grand battles, and could hide in places that a Big Person wouldn't fit. The problem was that Gollum had followed them from Moria, which only Aragorn, Gwen, and she knew. He would be problematic at best, but Merlin could control him. Hopefully.  
  
Still, there wasn't a choice for her. The Ring had to be destroyed. Still, to escape the brooding silence in the camp on the beach, she headed into the forest, making for the top of the hill. There, maybe, she would find a bit of peace and maybe discover a way to announce the people she was taking with her. But when she had only been there a few minutes, Boromir showed up, smiling.  
  
“Would you mind if I talked with you a while, Morgana?”  
  
She rolled her eyes. “I have already made my decision, Boromir. I'm going to Mordor, to destroy It. The Ring can do no good.”  
  
“In Sauron's hands, certainly! In Men, we could use it to defeat him, to  _win_. If you take it to Mordor, it won't be safe. Sauron will find you-- and It. The better course--”  
  
Morgana stared at the Man. No longer was he smiling, but frantic, eyes wild. She backed up, and pulled the Ring out of her shirt. At the sight of it, he lunged for her, and she slipped it on. She ran, down the hill. She could feel, see in her mind's eye the forces Sauron was mustering. There was no choice-- she had to leave now. She slipped the Ring off and tucked it under her shirt. She hid underneath a bush, and watched Boromir run by. A few minutes later, she heard crashing in the woods and looked behind her to see orcs cresting the top of the hill. Boromir's horn blew and she took off running. She had to cross the River now.  
  
But when she reached the camp, Gwen was the only person there. Morgana slid to a stop. “Where--?”  
  
“Boromir returned and confessed what he did. Merlin and Arthur went after you, and everyone else went after them, especially when the horn blew.” Gwen looked around the camp. “We need to leave.”  
  
“I wish Arthur and Merlin hadn't run off.” But even as she spoke, Morgana grabbed her pack and tossed it into a boat. Gwen did the same and clambered in. Morgana pushed it off the shore and jumped in. Neither one of them looked behind them as the desperate screams of battle rose into the air. They picked up the oars and began rowing. They had to cross the river. Once they reached the other side, Morgana looked at the distant shore.  _I'm sorry, Arthur. I'm sorry, Merlin. I wish you could have come with us, but we'll manage. Somehow, Gwen and I will manage_.  
  
The two women set off, seeking a path that would bring them into Mordor.


	5. Part 4: In Darkness Buried Deep

Morgana peered over her shoulder at Gwen. “Are you ready?”  
  
She nodded, and they pretended to settle down for the night, just as lost as they had been the previous day, but now they had Gollum to worry about. Morgana'd hoped he had been killed in the battle they heard raging behind them, but that hope was dashed when she'd spotted him several hours ago. If he wasn't captured or killed now, the quest would fail. He was too well known by the Enemy. They were ready for him, though.  
  
They heard his whispers and mutters about his Precious all the while he thought he was sneaking up on them. But when he came within grasping distance, they pounced on him. Morgana drew Sting and held it to the creature's throat. “Don't struggle, or I'll slit your throat.”  
  
He froze and then crumpled. “Don't let them hurt us, precious! We'll be nice to them, very nice, if they'll be nice to us, won't we? Yes.”  
  
Morgana rolled her eyes and didn't let her sword waver. Gwen's expression softened, on the other hand. Morgana said, “We should tie you up, so you can't sneak after us.”  
  
“But that would kill us, kill us.”  
  
“Morgana, we can't! If you want to kill him, do it now. But don't just leave him here to starve or die of thirst. We could take him with us.”  
  
“He'd murder us the first chance he had.”  
  
Gwen frowned and turned to the creature. “Sméagol, do you know the way to Mordor?”  
  
“Yes! Yes, we do!”  
  
Morgana stared at her lover. Sometimes, compassion and pity could be misplaced. But if he could lead them to the Black Gate, well, that was more than they could do alone. She lowered Sting, but didn't sheath it. “We cannot trust you."  
  
“We will swear, we will. Swear by the Precious!”  
  
“The Precious,” Gwen cried, aghast.  
  
“It is the only thing that may hold him to his word,” Morgana said. “Gollum, it is treacherous, even more than you are. It will likely twist your words. But if that is what you wish, what will you swear?”  
  
“Sméagol will swear to be very, very good and to never, never let Him have it. Sméagol will save it! But we must swear on it.”  
  
“By it,” Gwen interrupted. “You cannot touch it. You know what it would do to you, Sméagol.”  
  
“Yes, yes! I swear by the Precious. I swear.”  
  
Morgana nodded and finally sheathed her sword. She shook her head when Gollum crawled next to Gwen, and curled up. Gollum wasn't to be trusted, not even with his oath. The Ring would twist his vow, she knew it would. She must be cautious. Now, though, she would use him while he was slightly trustworthy. They had to find a way through this maze of rocks.  
  
Gollum led them through the rocks, and then through a horrid swamp filled with foul, rotting corpses. Morgana hated it, hated the way it felt inside her. It didn't bother Gollum at all, but the swamp unnerved Gwen. But even she didn't feel the wrongness the way Morgana did. She could only assume that it was the small amount of magic she had, the sort that only showed up in her dreams of the future.  
  
The Dead Marshes were treacherous. They had to travel in single file, with Gollum leading. It was slow, because he had to constantly test the path. Furthermore, unnerving lights popped up after dark, corpse lights, Gollum called them. Morgana certainly believed it, with all the dead bodies in the foul waters. When a Wraith flying on some beast swept over them, he refused to move for some hours. Gwen wanted to coddle him a bit, but Morgana wouldn't let her. But Morgana's suspicions were roused a bit when he stopped fawning over them as much. Maybe he suspected what they were going to do to the Precious, but more like, he was plotting ways to kill them and take the Ring for himself. Creatures like him didn't care about being oathbreakers.  
  
They only spent a little more than a day in the Marshes. It was somewhat of a relief to leave the stench, but now they were closer to Mordor than ever-- and far more at risk. It was a horrific land, filled with ashes, other detritus, and oily ooze. One night, they slept in a pit with the ooze at the bottom. It was unpleasant, but the safest place around. Gwen fell asleep immediately, but Morgana was finding rest harder. She could feel where the Dark Lord was through the Ring, and they were heading directly toward him. But that was where the quest led. Still, as she lay silent, she heard Gollum talking to himself. That wasn't new, but his words concerned her. So she pretended to sleep, and listened.  
  
“Sméagol promised.  
  
“But we promised to never let Him have it. But it's going to Him, yes, nearer every step. What's the hobbit going to do with it?  
  
“I don't know. I can't help it. Master's got it. Sméagol promised to help the Master.  
  
“Yes, the master of the Precious. But if we were master, we could help ourselves.  
  
“But Sméagol said he would be very, very good.  
  
“Very, very good? We shall be-- to ourselves. We should take the Precious.  
  
“But not hurt the nice hobbit?  
  
“No, not the nice hobbit. But the Baggins. Yes.  
  
“But the Baggins is the master.  
  
“Not if we have the Precious. Then we are the master.  
  
“But He'll see!  
  
“He sees. He knows. He heard us make silly promises against His orders. Must take it. The Wraiths are searching!  
  
“Not for Him?  
  
“Never for Him. For us! We will take it and have fish, three times a day. Most Precious Gollum. We wants it, we wants it.  
  
“But there's two of them. They'll wake and kill us.  
  
“We wants it.” There, for the first time, Morgana heard a pause in the conversation. “But She could help us. Yes, we waits. She can help.  
  
“No, no, not that way!  
  
“Yes. We wants it.”  
  
Before Morgana could stand and draw her sword, intending to deal with the danger once and for all, even if it meant finding their way alone, Gwen shifted and slowly sat up. “What time is it?”  
  
Gollum looked up. “Time to wake the master. Time to go! It's getting dark.”  
  
Gwen leaned over and kissed Morgana's cheek. “Time to leave. Another night of travel ahead of us.”  
  
It was another night of travel before they reached their destination: the Black Gate of Mordor. There were guards aplenty, both on the wall and patrolling before it. Morgana could see no way in. “Well, we must go forward. If this is the way into Mordor, than we shall take it.”  
  
“No, master, please! Not this way. There is another way. Darker, more difficult to find, more secret. But Sméagol knows it.”  
  
Morgana stared at him and then looked back at the Gate. “Then we must trust you to show us.” Silently, she added  _I wonder if this is where the_  She  _comes in_.  
  
They hid for the day in a rocky hollow, and watched armies marching into Mordor. She held Gwen's hand the entire time, and tried to ignore the Ring's growing weight. There was nothing they could do to prevent the massing of Sauron's forces. Gwen and she could only hope Boromir and Aragorn were preparing Minas Tirith for war.  
  
Gwen softly said, when the plain in front of the Gate was momentarily empty, “Tell us of your secret way.”  
  
“By a Tower of the Moon, a place long overtaken by the Enemy, there is a stair, a winding stair, and a dark tunnel, and then a path, a path into Mordor.”  
  
“Is it guarded, Gollum?” He looked over at Morgana, silent. She rested her free hand on Sting's hilt. “Is it guarded?”  
  
“Yes, yes, perhaps. No safe places in this country. But master must try it or go home. No other way.”  
  
Morgana sighed. “Then we must travel it.”  
  
Two more days passed, and they were in a fairer country, one that had only been under the dominion of Sauron for years, not centuries or Ages. After they found a lake and cleaned up a bit, they decided to rest in a hidden glade. Morgana rested and watched Gwen scrounge for food. Something other than lembas would taste wonderful, she'd told her lover, and Morgana heartily agreed. Gollum scampered off to find his own food, though when he returned-- as Gwen had requested-- he brought a rabbit, though he was rather dismayed at how she prepared it. The resulting squabble woke Morgana up from her dozing, but she fell asleep again while Gwen prepared the stew, staying awake long enough to see Gollum leave, taking his own rabbit to eat in peace.  
  
After Gwen woke her with a kiss, they ate the stew that was almost more like a soup. Still, it was filling. Morgana looked at the forest while Gwen left to clean the pot and dishes. It was peaceful, reminiscent of the Shire, and hard to remember they could be spotted by the Enemy at any moment. Still, it had been a much nicer rest than they had had since Lothlórien. But that peace was shattered when Gwen rushed back. “Did you hear anything odd?”  
  
She was about to say no when she did-- something like voices. Morgana stood, both women put on their packs, and drew their weapons. The muffled voices turned into words and four Men dressed in browns and greens came into the glade. They stopped, staring at them. Morgana and Gwen did likewise.  
  
“Who are you and what are you doing here? This is no place for--”  
  
“If you say women,” Morgana said, not lowering her sword. “Then you have no idea what women are capable of.”  
  
“I was going to say children, but you are obviously not,” the leader said. “My name is Faramir of Minas Tirith.”  
  
“I'm Morgana and she's Gwen.”  
  
“The third member of your company?”  
  
Morgana gritted her teeth. Of course Gollum had led the Men here. “He's our guide, of sorts. We met him on the road, and are not responsible for his actions.”  
  
“Your guide to where?”  
  
“That is our business,” Gwen said, speaking for the first time. “But so you know, we have traveled from Rivendell, with other companions, among them Boromir of Minas Tirith.”  
  
Faramir said, “How do you know him?”  
  
“He said he needed an answer for a riddle, and he found it. We are the Halflings the rhyme spoke of.”  
  
Faramir nodded. “It is good you know the riddle. It speaks that you also tell the truth. But for now, my men and I must go. You will remain here, unless you wish to be involved in battle.”  
  
“We'll wait,” Gwen said, and sheathed her sword.  
  
“Two will remain here to guard you. I still have questions, and with battle drawing nigh, you will be safer.”  
  
Morgana bit back a sarcastic retort as Faramir and one of the Men slipped back into the forest. Maybe it was because they were women. Maybe it was because they were Halflings and clearly weren't warriors. Maybe they were prisoners in all but name. But the Men were there nonetheless, and there was nothing she could do about it.  _Unless she used the Ring_ , something seemed to whisper to her. Or maybe it was just her imagination, she thought as she looked at Gwen. They were safe enough here. She could be patient.  
  
When the noise of battle quieted, Gwen finally lay down and slept. Morgana sat next to her, running a hand through her hair. She wished she could sleep, but she didn't trust the Men. What if the Ring slipped into view? No, better to remain awake. Faramir returned several hours later with the survivors of his company. Morgana was glad to see him. He reminded her of Boromir in a way, but at the same time, he was also different-- more humble and wiser.  
  
He sat near her, and began questioning her. Morgana paled a little, but answered them. These Men were an obstacle in her quest, but they couldn't know that. If she answered correctly, maybe they could help somehow. Supplies would be welcome. But supplies were far from her mind when Faramir revealed that Boromir was his brother-- and that he had died. Somehow, he'd seen his funeral boat on the Anduin.  
  
That was when Gwen revealed she'd awakened. “I'm sorry, Faramir. He was a good man.”  
  
He nodded. “Do you know how he died?”  
  
“No,” Morgana said. “When we separated from the Company, he was still alive. And if he is dead, then I fear the rest of them are dead as well.”  
  
Gwen grabbed Morgana's hand. “They can't be.”  
  
“They likely are, Gwen,” Faramir said kindly. “My brother was a warrior, and has survived many battles. Though perhaps one or two did, for how else was he placed in a boat?” His face stilled. “You cannot remain here now, for it will be unsafe. Come with us tonight, and we shall decide what to do in the morning.”  
  
Morgana nodded and stood up, never releasing Gwen's hand. On the march, though, Faramir continued talking, a more subtle interrogation, but one that proved he knew his brother's heart. For he guessed correctly that Boromir had tried to take whatever Morgana carried, and that it was likely a foul weapon of the enemy. But the thing that struck Morgana was that he never once spoke of using it. He even said, “I would not take this thing, not even if Minas Tirith were in ruins. I do not wish for such victories. Better that we are remember for our history than feared."  
  
They walked in silence for the rest of the way. Morgana kept an eye out, and thought she spotted Gollum once, but it was likely only a squirrel or rabbit. He wouldn't dare to come near so large an armed company. Once they reached the path to their destination, Morgana and Gwen allowed themselves to be blindfolded. She understood the precaution without needing an explanation. If they went their separate ways and were captured, they wouldn't know the path to tell it under interrogation.  
  
Once they were in a cave, the blindfolds were removed and they ate supper with the Men. They were shown to an alcove and left there unguarded. Not that there was a way out without crossing the room full of people, but they weren't actually prisoners. Morgana finally started to relax. Whatever Boromir had done, maybe he wasn't the standard of people from Minas Tirith. Maybe Faramir was. She lay down and decided that in the morning she would persuade him to release them to complete their task. They couldn't stay here, and they couldn't permit themselves to be taken anywhere.  
  
But she was woken in the night, by Faramir. “Come with me. The third member of your party has been spotted.”  
  
He led her to a rock overlooking a waterfall and the pool at its base. He pointed to a figure, barely seen in the moonlight. “Shall we shoot him?”  
  
Morgana hesitated. “No, for he is our guide. I do not trust Gollum, but he will do no harm this night. He swore an oath, and I will hold him to it.”  
  
“What will Gwen say?”  
  
“She's the one who persuaded me to let him swear. She will want no harm done to him.”  
  
“That is your true reason, then. You do not want your love to turn from you.”  
  
Morgana paled and looked up at Faramir. “How did--”  
  
“It is obvious, and of little matter. But I must ask, where is the creature guiding you?”  
  
“To Mordor. We must destroy the weapon, even though it means entering Sauron's territory.”  
  
Faramir signaled to a man. “Capture him, bind him, do not let him see. Tell him Morgana ordered his life spared.” The man nodded and disappeared. Faramir sighed. “I think I can guess what you carry. I was always more of a scholar than my brother. Now, where is Gollum guiding you?”  
  
“Cirith Ungol. We could not enter through the Gate, and know of no other way.”  
  
“It is an evil place, and you will likely face the threat of imprisonment. But come, we must talk to Gollum.”  
  
“His name is Sméagol,” Gwen said softly, making both of them turn. “I do not think he will thank you, Morgana. But I do.”  
  
Morgana smiled grimly. “I had no real choice. That is what it comes to: the lesser of two evils, which may prove wrong in the end, but we must get to Mordor.”  
  
“I know, and I pray the blessings of the Valar go with you.”  
  
Gollum remained bound, but the blindfold was removed. When he saw Morgana, he hissed at her, but said nothing. Gwen swiftly fell asleep again, but Morgana remained awake for a time, worrying about Gollum and the path they must take.  
  
The next morning, they received supplies of food and were released, though Faramir charged them with traveling to Minas Tirith once their quest was complete. “The Steward will wish to question you, and I for one will enjoy talking with you again.”  
  
With that, he disappeared into the woods with his men. Morgana looked at Gollum. “Lead us on.”  
  
Two days later, they had left the forest of Ithilien behind and were in the mountains, heading toward Minas Morgul. It was an evil place, as Faramir had said, and the Ring was increasingly heavy, weighing on her mind and body. Gwen, too, was silent. They had to be, this close to the city. There was a bridge leading to it that Morgana had to be dragged back from. The Ring, the Ring called out, forcing her forward to the city. Once they were safely on the path, it released its hold on her mind and she slumped. Could she continue to bear such a burden? Gollum wouldn't let them rest because there was a high probability they would be seen, but before she could stand, the gates of the city opened and an army strode forth. Gwen groaned and Morgana stared, aghast. Mordor was at last marching to war, and she knew that this was only one of its armies. How could they fight against such might? She set her jaw. They couldn't, but they could destroy Sauron's power. They must continue.  
  
Once the army passed, the three continued upward, reaching a steep stairway. But they couldn't rest until they reached the top of the second set of winding stairs. It was a hard and dangerous road they climbed, and at one point, Morgana spotted a tower with a red light shining from a top window at the pass they were making for. “Guarded after all,” she said.  
  
“Yes, yes! All ways are guarded. This may be least watched.”  
  
But shortly after, they found a cleft and crawled into it to rest. They ate a meal, but drank sparingly of their water. They didn't know how long it needed to last. At last, they fell asleep. But when she heard something scrabbling in the loose rock, she woke up and put her hand on her sword. She relaxed when she saw it was just Gollum. “Why are you sneaking about?”  
  
“Not safe, not having someone sneaking.”  
  
Morgana rolled her eyes. “I suppose it's time we moved on?”  
  
“Yes, yes. There's still the tunnel.”  
  
Morgana shook Gwen awake and they continued on. When they came to the foul-smelling entrance, Morgana and Gwen looked at each other. “Is there another way,” Gwen asked.  
  
“No. Only way.”  
  
They followed him into the tunnel, and Morgana pulled out Sting. She didn't like the feel of the place, nevermind the smell. For hours, they followed Gollum through the mess of tunnels, but when they needed him, at a crossroads, they found he had disappeared.  
  
“I told you,” Morgana said. “I told you he couldn't be trusted.”  
  
“Maybe if you had treated him better, we wouldn't be in this situation,” Gwen snapped back. “Now, where did you put Galadriel's gift?”  
  
Morgana pulled it out of her pack and it lit up the cavern-- and the giant spider. Morgana's jaw dropped but she kept hold of both Sting and the phial. The light continued to brighten until the spider turned away. They ran on, heading steadily upwards, until they came to a tunnel blocked by cobwebs. Frustrated and frightened, Morgana swung Sting through them. They stared at the outside when the strands parted. But Gwen recovered first and grabbed the hand holding the phial. “Let's go. The pass is right there. We're through!”  
  
Morgana shook her hand from Gwen's, leaving the phial in her lover's, and pelted forward. She knew there were orcs ahead, with Sting glowing blue, but better to get away from the tunnel first. She raced ahead of Gwen, knowing she'd catch up. But then she heard her cry out, “Morgana!”  
  
So she turned around, in time to see Gwen drive Gollum off with her sword, but mostly, all she saw was the spider. Before she could even move, wishing she had the light, it struck, stinging her. She dropped Sting and collapsed, pain and fire rushing through her body, losing consciousness just as Gwen rushed forward.  
  


* * * * *

  
  
Morgana grimaced as she rolled over onto her back. No one was currently in the room with her, but that could swiftly change. So she sat up, but didn't see anything that belonged to her, not that it was easy to discover in the red light. Not that she had expected to, either, the way the orcs had carefully stripped her. She'd felt that, but whatever poison had been in Shelob's stinger hadn't worn off enough for her to stop them, even with the foul drink the orcs had forced down her throat. She'd been terrified they'd do worse, but they hadn't. The two who had interrogated her after that-- not that she'd answered anything-- had threatened, but one of the other orcs had reminded them that any prisoners were to be unharmed.  
  
That was what unnerved her. She knew why: Sauron himself would want to interrogate her. And that would be far less effective if she was already broken and wanting to confess to everything and anything through sheer dint of trying to escape further pain. So she sat quietly underneath the window slit in the round chamber, arms wrapped around her legs, trying to think of a plan. Maybe she could overpower an orc, just one. It wouldn't be much of a disguise, because of her height, but she would at least be armed.  
  
What terrified her was the Ring had been taken along with her clothes. It wouldn't be long before Sauron heard about it, and then he would come. He would interrogate her simply because he could. And if the tales she'd heard were true, he may not even bother with questions. He could just rip it from her mind. Morgana shuddered. Better death than that. She knew her limits, and fighting Sauron was beyond them.  
  
It was strange not having the Ring, though. Her mind felt clearer than it had in weeks. But clearness just highlighted that it was missing. She needed it back, and a part of her was willing to fight Sauron for it. And as much as she tried to ignore that, she couldn't. The Ring was  _hers_.  
  
Morgana didn't know how long she waited, especially when the sounds of battle filled the tower. They died down, and silence filled the air. There wasn't even the bustle of everyday noises. It was just silence.  
  
No, not just silence. She heard singing. Not in the Black Speech, but in Westron. Gwen! Morgana scrambled to her feet and hurried over to the trapdoor. But there was no ladder up here (of course there wasn't), and no way to reach her through the locked door. But a scraping noise and a shout for Morgana to be quiet brought a smile to her face instead. One orc, which the two of them could handle. One orc setting up the ladder. This wouldn't be a problem.  
  
When the hatch flipped open and the orc's head appeared in the opening, Morgana grinned ferally and kicked it. The orc stumbled backwards, head crunching on the stone behind it before disappearing down the hole. Morgana crept to the edge and peered down. He wasn't moving. And Gwen appeared next to the body, looking shocked before she glanced upwards.  
  
“You're still alive!” She scurried up the ladder and embraced Morgana. “I mean, I thought Shelob had killed you, but I overheard the patrol saying the venom doesn't kill, and then I followed them when they brought you here, and I had to figure out a way to get in, and you're naked.”  
  
Gwen released her lover, and then looked around the room. “Where are your clothes?”  
  
“Gone,” Morgana answered. “The orcs took everything. Sauron wants everything found on any people who make it to Mordor.” Quietly, she said, “They have the Ring.”  
  
“No, they don't,” Gwen corrected, quite firmly. “Remember, I thought you were dead. So I took it, so the Quest could continue.”  
  
Morgana stared at her.  _Gwen_  had taken the Ring. They were safe. They still had a chance! “Gwen, please return it to me. You shouldn't have it. Not here, especially not here.”  
  
Gwen removed the chain from around her neck and held it out. “It'll be more dangerous than before, and much harder to bear. Being in Mordor… There's something different about it. If you want me to, I could help with the burden and let you rest for a bit.”  
  
Morgana bit back an angry retort, the sight of someone else holding the Ring more than she could bear. “No, I have to do this, Gwen.”  
  
She only nodded and didn't even wince when Morgana yanked the chain from her hand. She slipped it on and said lightly, “Now, clothing. I don't suppose anything the orcs have would fit me?”  
  
Gwen smiled a bit, and said, “I doubt it. Maybe a tunic or something. We could hack off the legs of some trousers or something. Either way, I need to disguise myself as an orc, too. We'd stand out too much dressed as we are.”  
  
She disappeared down the ladder and Morgana kept watch for the seemingly infinite time she was gone. But she eventually reappeared, with a bundle of cloth held snugly in an armpit. Morgana dressed, and they did have to use Sting to cut down arm and leg lengths, with a bit of rope to hold Morgana's trousers up. Gwen folded her Elven cloak and put it in her pack. “I didn't spot anything of use, but there's probably kitchens.”  
  
“I don't think we should spend more time here,” Morgana said. “It's too open, and who knows if there'll be a messenger coming.”  
  
They crept out of the tower, but breaking through the ward on the courtyard entrance was difficult, and a bell sounded when it broke. Morgana followed Gwen's lead, and hid around a bend in the road. A Wraith's cry spilt the air around them, and they hurried on. They'd nearly crossed a bridge when the sound of many footsteps on the road ahead of them gave them no choice but to jump over the side. Morgana breathed a sigh of relief when no cry was given. They were safe for now-- in a relative definition of the term.   
  
They continued onwards in the ravine, hoping to find some drinkable water and remain under cover. But even so, they couldn't help but notice the cover of darkness that had spread from Mordor barely a week ago was breaking apart. Morgana shook her head. It seemed so much longer than that. They managed to reach a road that had no one on it, and traveled on it-- faster than scrambling in a ravine and they needed all the speed they could get-- for maybe an hour when they heard water. Morgana and Gwen hurried over to it, and drank their fill and topped off Gwen's water-bottle. It was enough to keep them going until it was nearly too dark to see. When they hid under some bramble bushes for the night, Gwen fell asleep almost immediately. Morgana, though she was exhausted, couldn't. She stared upwards, the brambles black on dark. So much was riding on them, and every step she took drained her strength. The Ring wanted to be found, she could feel it. And it would be so easy to give in. She couldn't, not just for Gwen's sake, but for Arthur, and Merlin, and the Fellowship, and the Shire. But, try as she might, she couldn't remember precisely what Bag End even looked like. A burning ring of gold overwhelmed it, to the point where the green grass barely showed through. Morgana bit her lip, and rolled over. Sleep would help. It had to.  
  
When they finally climbed out of the ravine-- they had left the road some miles back the previous day-- Morgana stared at Mount Doom and the Dark Tower that rose behind it, dominating the fire-mountain through sheer presence, and then at the armies that covered the plain before them. This would be more difficult than she had thought. But then, she'd almost forgotten about the army that had marched in through the Black Gate. “We need to find a way to cross. We have to keep moving.”  
  
Gwen nodded, a determined expression on her face. She hoisted the nearly empty pack on her back-- it contained lembas, water, and Galadriel's gifts-- and headed off. Morgana swiftly caught up and took the lead. Unfortunately, after another day's scramble, they had no choice but to take the road they came across. The geography of Mordor wouldn't permit them to do otherwise. Gwen fretted the entire time they were on it, to the point where Morgana held her hand even though she occasionally needed it for balance. The ring of fire occasionally flickered across her vision.  
  
They stopped for a rest near more water, but they had been traveling for only little while, they heard marching behind them-- with no place to hide.  
  
Morgana dropped Gwen's hand when they sat down by the side of the road. Maybe they would leave two orcs alone, but the risk went up if they appeared to be anything but soldiers. Their luck failed them, and they were forced to fall into the company of orcs, and unfortunately not at the rear. Morgana took a deep breath and forced herself to march, focusing only on moving forward. She couldn't fall behind, or draw any attention to herself. She had to keep moving.  
  
Moving and moving until a commotion threw her out of the pattern of breath-step-breath-step. Gwen grabbed her hand and pulled her to the side of the road, where Morgana finally saw what happened. They'd reached a crossroads, and another company of orcs had marched straight into theirs. She shot a grin at Gwen and crawled over the berm onto the ground below. They hid from sight until the noise diminished before crawling to a shallow pit out of sight from the road.  
  
“We were lucky, Morgana!” Gwen said as she took out two small pieces of lembas from her pack.  
  
“Maybe,” she replied, gasping. “We can't be caught again.”  
  
They spent an uneasy night in the pit before setting off once again, heading for the broken land about Mount Doom. Morgana refused to think of the lack of supplies. They would reach it, yes, but they would not return. But their goal was to destroy the Ring. Morgana, almost from the beginning, had known she would not return. There had been little beyond the fire-mountain in her dreams, little to give her hope of life beyond. Even the dream of the green country beyond the rain meant nothing now. She would not survive to see it.  
  
They walked, daring an empty road for several miles, until it turned away from their goal. But the closer they came, the more Morgana saw the ring of fire-- and the feeling that Someone was searching for the Ring grew. It became harder and harder to do anything, even to see the land beneath her feet. Most of her will was focused on denying Sauron's mental compulsion to put on the Ring. The rest she relied on Gwen for.  
  
Gwen.  
  
Morgana looked over at her, filth-covered and never looking more beautiful. She needn't have come, especially this far. But she had done it out of love for Morgana, and nothing else. Morgana smiled when Gwen glanced at her and with a renewed determination even with the armor dragging her down, walked just that little bit faster.  
  
They turned off the road, and only a mile into the cracked plain, they stopped. “I can't bear the weight, Gwen.” Morgana took off the armor that had concealed their non-orcness and dropped it on the ground, straightening from the lack of weight. She wiped a hand across her forehead, breathing heavily in effort and relief. “It saved us once, but it's hindering now. Its purpose has been served.”  
  
Gwen tossed both sets of armor into a deep crack, and they both listened to it clang down to the bottom. They set off, and were able to go just that much faster. But Morgana knew that it was a stopgap measure at best-- she started stumbling more, hardly able to see between her exhaustion and the Ring's power. Still, from the little Gwen said as she handed over the water, they only had a day's journey left. Morgana handed the bottle back and nodded. One day. She could survive one day. But she fingered the Ring underneath the tunic, more comforted by its presence than by the knowledge the quest was nearly at an end.  
  
But it wasn't even one day. They had reached the foot of the mountain when night arrived. Morgana spent a sleepless night, silently going over and over again why she had to destroy the Ring. Maybe it would be enough to keep the ring of fire from completely overwhelming her vision. When dawn broke, Gwen nudged her and helped her up. “We're nearly there,” she whispered.  
  
Morgana looked up at Mount Doom and stumbled forward. Gwen looped an arm about her waist and helped her walk. She would have fallen several times if not for her. And Morgana was no longer too proud to ask for help. She needed it, especially when the ring of fire covered her vision for minutes at a time. Finally, though they stopped for a rest.  
  
Morgana looked up at the mountain and smiled just as Gwen pointed to a small road carved into the mountainside. “There! We can use that. There's only one reason a road would be up here. It'll take us to where we need to go.”  
  
Morgana nodded and shakily stood up. They were so close now. So close to the dreadful task being finished. She crawled up to the road, no longer having any strength to walk. Once there, Gwen helped her stand and they looked at the Dark Tower. Morgana flinched when she saw a red light from the uppermost story flare out, but it wasn't aimed at them. It was aimed elsewhere, and Morgana vaguely wondered if Aragorn had something to do with it. She hoped he did, that he hadn't died. That no one in the fellowship had died, and most of all that Merlin and Arthur were safe. That last bit gave her the strength to stand and walk up the road to the Cracks of Doom. She grasped Gwen's hand, letting her lead the way.  
  
But a sudden scrambling noise and Gwen let go of her hand with a shriek. “Gollum!”  
  
Morgana blinked, trying to clear the fire from her eyes. She saw two shapes wrestling, Gwen trying to hold the shouting creature back.  
  
“Wicked mistress! Wicked mistress cheats us; cheats Sméagol, gollum. She musn't go that way. She musn't hurt the Precious. Give it to Sméagol, yes. Give it to us!”  
  
Morgana stared at him and took the chance Gwen gave her. She ran-- she wouldn't have called it running when she was still in the Shire, but it was running nonetheless-- up the road, trying to reach the Cracks before Gwen lost her grip. She couldn't hold onto the wily creature forever.  
  
Morgana reached the end of the road, gasping for breath. She paused for a brief instant before plunging into the dark, hot tunnel in the mountain's side. And yet, when light returned, it was red and pulsing. She walked to the end of the rock and stared down at the lava. Now, she was here, at the end. It was so simple.  
  
She drew the chain from around her neck and stared at the Ring. Such a little thing, and yet, so beautiful. A beautiful burden. She didn't need to see it in her mind's eye now. She held it. She mastered it. It was no burden now.  
  
“Morgana!”  
  
She faintly heard Gwen, but only turned slightly, drawing the Ring safely over rock. “The Ring is mine.” She pulled it from the chain and put it on. Immediately, the world drew dimmer, but she could see so much----  
  
Something slammed into her, and she barely kept her balance. Gollum! She had been right all those weeks ago. Of course he would steal the Precious from her. She should never have allowed him near her. She struggled, trying to throw him over the edge, but somehow, he grabbed the hand with the Ring on it. And bit through the finger it was on.  
  
The world brightened and she collapsed, staring up at the monster. She had to get the Ring back! Before she could move, however, Gollum's celebratory leaps brought him too near the edge. He disappeared, still crowing, “My precious!”  
  
The mountain shook, but Morgana still stared in shock at the spot where Gollum had disappeared. Gwen dragged her from the edge, but she shook off her hands. Morgana straightened. “Well, this is the end, Gwen.”  
  
“Not yet it isn't,” she said fiercely, and took her uninjured hand. Together, they ran out of the mountain. They slowed when they reached the road, but the flow of lava and ash was already making it hard to go on. Finally, they had to stop, collapsing onto a pile of rock. They leaned against each other, heads touching.  
  
Morgana said, “I wouldn't have come this far without you, Gwen.”  
  
“I know.”  
  
That was the last Morgana saw, exhaustion, pain, and the fumes from Mount Doom overwhelming her.


	6. Part 5: Here at Journey's End

Morgana heard singing. Bad, horrible singing from a voice she knew quite well. “Merlin, stop it. You know you can't sing.”  
  
A clatter finally made her open her eyes. And she remembered.  
  
She looked around the tent she lay in, Gwen in a bed next to her, empty of anyone else except her cousin. “Where are we? What happened? I thought we were dying.”  
  
“You would have, but Gandalf--”  
  
“Gandalf's dead.”  
  
“No, I'm not.”  
  
Morgana sat up and stared at the wizard dressed in white who had just entered the tent, carrying a mug. “How?”  
  
“Wizards aren't mortal, at least not how you consider it. My work here was unfinished, so I returned.”  
  
“Fine. That doesn't explain how Gwen and I survived.” Over Gandalf's shoulder, she saw Merlin slip through the tent's flap. She turned her attention back to the wizard.  
  
“The Eagles-- you do remember the ones from Gorlois' stories-- they carried you out of Mordor. It was a near thing. You were starved, dehydrated, exhausted beyond belief, and poisoned from the fumes of the eruption. You were lucky you weren't burned. Aragorn put you both in a healing sleep.”  
  
“Gwen--”  
  
“Woke up two hours ago, drank some broth, and fell back to sleep. Which is precisely what you are going to do.” He turned slightly to face Arthur and Merlin, who had come into the tent. “They can talk to you later.” He handed her the mug, which she sipped.  
  
The next day, though, both were able to stay awake, and they finally heard from Merlin and Arthur what they had been up to.  
  
“So, what happened the day we left?”  
  
Merlin said, “The camp was attacked by orcs. Boromir came after us, and died trying to save us. We were taken--”  
  
“Why didn't you use magic?” Gwen said.  
  
“I couldn't. They'd knocked my head. Good thing my skull's thick.”  
  
Arthur snorted. “As if it could be anything else. We were captive for two days, and when Éomer attacked the band of orcs, we managed to escape into the forest. It was strange, very strange.”  
  
“What's strange is that both of you are taller than you should be,” Morgana said acerbically.  
  
“Entdraught! Wonderful stuff. And before you ask, we met an Ent shortly after our escape.”  
  
“He didn't know what to make of us at first, but then we didn't know what to make of a walking, talking tree,” Merlin said with a wicked grin. “He'd never heard of Hobbits, but then, it seems as if no one has outside of the North.”  
  
“It saved us,” Gwen said. “If Sauron had known where to look, he would have found the Ring, and none of this would have happened.”  
  
“But he didn't. But back to Treebeard. We managed to convince him to help us, so all the Ents attacked Nimueh. She's trapped in Isengard,” Merlin said.  
  
“That isn't all. Aragorn, Gimli, and Legolas tracked us to the forest-- they'd met Éomer, who gave them horses-- and met Gandalf! He led them to Edoras, the capital of Rohan, where they managed to kill Nimueh's puppet Wormtongue, and restore King Théoden's mind. But then they had to battle Nimueh's army of orcs at Helm's Deep. They won, but it was a near thing. And they came to meet us at Isengard.”  
  
“Which is where Arthur and I separated. I did something really stupid.”  
  
Gwen lay a hand on Merlin's arm, but Morgana laughed. “Isn't that normal?”  
  
“It turned out good in the end. What happened is that I found something, a palantír, and looked into it. Sauron saw me, but he didn't recognize me or learn anything. I saw a white tree burning, though. After that, I couldn't stay with everyone. Gandalf took me to Minas Tirith, the white city with the white tree. I swore myself to Gondor.” Merlin half-smiled. “No one knows what to make of me. I saved Faramir from being burned alive- I used my magic to put out the torches-- but his father the steward was mad. He burned himself rather than face what he saw as certain defeat.”  
  
“Your magic?”  
  
“I've kept it secret. I mean, there are people who know, but few need to. I mean, the nobility recognize that my being with Gandalf means I can be trusted, and I'm not an ally of Sauron's, but Aragorn doesn't want to risk my life more than necessary.” His face twisted. "It's not like I don't know what it is to live with others' fear. I wish I didn't."  
  
“You saved Faramir's life when no one else could. And you proved beyond all doubt that your magic is beneficial. Everyone in the Shire knows you have it, so why don't you use it?" While Merlin stared flabbergasted at Arthur, the latter continued. "None of us will be staying long, either,” Arthur said. “We're just waiting for the coronation-- which was delayed because of the final battle and everyone who needed healing-- and the wedding. Then we'll go home.”  
  
“Good,” Morgana said. “We've been away too long. Now, back to Isengard. Arthur, what happened to you?”  
  
“Not much. I swore myself to Rohan, but I disobeyed an order to remain behind. I stuck with Éowyn-- Éomer's sister-- who'd disguised herself as a man so she could fight. She killed the Witchking-- the head of the Wraiths! I helped a bit, stabbed it in the knee. But she's the one who killed it, but too late to save Théoden. There was a huge battle, and it was due to Aragorn bringing an army of the dead and the Rohirrim that we won.”  
  
“And then what happened?” Gwen asked.  
  
“We didn't know what you two were doing,” Arthur said. “So we decided that we had to distract Sauron.”  
  
“ _You_  were stuck in the Houses of Healing,” Merlin said.  
  
Morgana laughed at the look on Arthur's face. “So what really happened?”  
  
“All the captains decided that a showdown at the Black Gate would distract Sauron, and maybe bring him to think that we had the Ring and were going to openly use it against him. It worked, but not before he let us know that'd he'd captured Morgana.”  
  
“What?” she said quietly.  
  
“His herald came out to falsely treat with us. He had the mithril coat.”  
  
“Neither Aragorn nor Gandalf believed he had the Ring. Sauron would never have been so cautious otherwise. So we hoped that Gwen was still continuing the quest. Sauron's and our armies fought, and then Mount Doom exploded. The Black Tower crumbled and his armies scattered. And here we are.”  
  
“I'm a bit confused,” Gwen said. “Aragorn brought an army of the dead?”  
  
“They were oathbreakers, back in the days of the Last Alliance. Their ghosts were bound here until Aragorn released them after they helped defeat Sauron's army. Aragorn thinks they marched from Minas Morgul.”  
  
Gwen and Morgana looked at each other. Morgana said, “He's likely right. We saw an army pass us when we were near there.”  
  
Arthur nodded. “Any other questions about what we did before you tell your stories?”  
  
“No,” Gwen said, and began their story.  
  


* * * * *

  
  
The first of May dawned, and Aragorn was crowned king. Morgana and Gwen met Éowyn, and managed to convince her that even though her marriage to Faramir (now  _that_  was a surprise, given the short length of time they knew each other) meant she had to adjust to a different culture, there was no reason she had to give up her sword even if she wanted to be a healer. After all, if women could carry the Ring to Mount Doom, there was no reason they couldn't fight. Aragorn, too, put in his support for the idea. After all, he was both a healer and a warrior.  
  
But the day everyone was anxiously awaiting finally came. Arwen specifically sought out Gwen and Morgana's help in dressing for her wedding. They had a wonderful talk, in which Morgana and Gwen decided that they were no longer going to hide their relationship when they returned to the Shire. They had simply been through too much together to feel comfortable lying about it now, especially when they hadn't hidden it since they left the Shire. They had dealt with both positive and negative reactions from strangers and people they had come to consider friends. They could handle the Shire's reactions.  
  
It was a gorgeous wedding, mixing both Elven and Mannish customs. The vows were similar, but there were additional ones for Arwen, given she was becoming queen. The newly-wed couple slipped off early, and when Morgana and Gwen noticed, they followed suit.  
  
In mid-August, the royal party and all their guests left Minas Tirith. They stopped in Edoras to bury Théoden, and then many of them traveled to Isengard, where they received unwelcome news. Nimueh still had enough of her powers to effect an escape. None of the Ents knew where she had gone. Gandalf simply shook his head, looking a bit tired, and Morgana felt sorry for this one last task he had to perform. Isengard was where they left Aragorn, and the Elves from Rivendell and Lothlórien traveled together for three weeks before they, too, split off. They returned to Rivendell on the eve of Morgana's birthday.  
  
Gorlois was ecstatic to see Morgana, even though he now looked and felt every inch his advanced age. The four of them had to recount all their adventures for him. Two weeks later, though, they left him in Rivendell. He was too old to travel, and he was happy in Rivendell. Gandalf went with them as far as Bree, but said he had to find Nimueh before he could return to Valinor. The unsettling thing was that the innkeeper warned them that not all was right in the Shire. And the next night, looking at the gate across the Brandywine Bridge barring their entry, she knew he was right.  
  
Arthur raised a ruckus, and a crowd of hobbits came out of their houses and stood at the other end of the Bridge. “Are you going to let us in?”  
  
“We can't! It isn't allowed,” one of the hobbit said.  
  
“Says who?” Morgana asked crossly. “It's raining, and we need shelter.”  
  
“The Chief at Bag End.”  
  
Morgana rolled her eyes. “Chief or no chief, we're coming in. Merlin?”  
  
He grinned-- having decided to openly use his magic after several long talks with Gandalf, Elrond, and others-- and raised his hand. The hobbits standing on the other side scurried away, leaving a wide semicircle in front of it. With a flash and bang, the gate flew off its hinges and landed clattering in the dirt. The four travelers crossed the bridge and looked around. Gwen said, “What happened to the inn?"  
  
“There's a guardhouse,” the hobbit who had spoke before said. “But we can't feed you, or even take you in.”  
  
“That's right,” a Man said nastily, coming from inside one of the houses. “You're all under arrest.”  
  
The four of them laughed. Morgana couldn't help it. One Man, against four armed hobbits. This was ridiculous. “I don't care who you are, but you'd better leave the Shire. Now.”  
  
The Man opened his mouth to say something, and then spotted the crumpled gate laying in the road. Even in the torchlight, his face noticeably paled. “You won't last. None of you will.”  
  
But he did cross the bridge. Arthur turned to the crowd. “Now who will give us shelter for the night? We have food, so no need to worry about that. And we'd appreciate it if someone could tell us what happened here.”  
  
They ended up in the guardhouse for the night. In the morning, they headed straight for Hobbiton, though it was forty miles away and was two days away. It looked as if their work was unfinished. And in the Shire of all places. Even that was touched by the War. They ended up “arrested” at the halfway point, the village of Frogmorton, and spent the night in the Shirriff-house. Of course, they left unescorted in the morning. None of them were willing to put up with a bunch of nonsense rules. When they reached Hobbiton, they were greeted by several uncouth-looking Men.  
  
“She's not going to like this,” one of them said. “Where are the Shirriffs?”  
  
“Coming. They couldn't keep up with us,” Gwen said. “Now, who's the Chief?”  
  
They snickered and Morgana drew Sting, while Arthur drew his sword. “Leave. Or answer our questions.”  
  
They left, but not before they raised the alarm. Gwen rolled her eyes and drew her own sword. “Looks like we may have a fight on our hands.”  
  
“Not just our hands,” Merlin said. “We need to raise the Shire. We'll group at the Cottons.”  
  
Arthur blew the horn he'd received as a gift from Éowyn and the four of them hurried to the Cottons' farm. Rosie was surprised and joyful to see Gwen, but shocked at the state she was in, filthy from the road and in trousers. Still, there was more to do than gossip. They had a country to take back. Within a couple hours, the village of Bywater had been roused, and they were ready to start. Merlin left shortly, with Arthur, to rouse the Tooks. They'd been fighting from the beginning, and were at a stalemate, with no one entering or leaving. Then the hobbits who had been sent out to scout came back with news that a group of Men were coming from Hobbiton. They trapped them, Morgana making it quite clear that they were to surrender or die. The leader died. And finally, Cotton told them what happened.  
  
“It started with Lotho Baggins, who bought a lot of property, and then when people realized it was too much, with money from no one knew where, they began complaining. And Lotho brought Men in, a lot of them. That was bad enough, but then Nimueh came. She's nasty, and the one in charge now. The Men listen to her.”  
  
“Well, that settles it,” Gwen said. “We're going to see her come morning.”  
  
Morgana nodded, wishing there was a way she could contact Gandalf.  
  
Before they could leave however, Arthur returned with news the Merlin was leading those Tooks as could be spared-- spared from chasing the Men in other areas of the Shire out of it. The Shire was finally rising up, and Merlin was helping to lead it. Maybe he'd gain a bit of respect now, not fear. Morgana could only hope.  
  
The battle between the hobbits and the Men joined shortly before noon. Arthur had plenty of time to prepare, and to lay a trap. It worked, though nineteen hobbits were killed and over thirty wounded. The Men only had a dozen survivors. It was time to confront the fallen wizard.  
  
Morgana was glad Merlin was with them. She knew they'd need him before day's end. But Arthur and Gwen were comforts as well. With everything they had done, they could handle her.  
  
When they reached Bag End, Morgana called, “Nimueh, come out. We know you're in there.”  
  
“Of course you do. It's a pity Gandalf didn't. But then, he's off on a wild goose chase. Always too thick to see what was under his nose.” She looked down at them. “So now you have to face me. You thought you could come home to safety. But I had a better idea. I just needed a little more time.”  
  
She raised her hand and a fireball appeared above it. Merlin shoved them out of the way-- without touching them-- and raised a shield at the same moment. The fireball splashed and disappeared. “You don't have to be a wizard to do magic,” he said softly. “We don't need Gandalf. Your power was broken in Isengard, Nimueh. If you fight me--”  
  
Nimueh laughed and advanced on him, leaving the safety of Bag End. Arthur snuck around her and closed the door so she couldn't escape. Gwen helped Morgana stand, and they looked at the crowd of hobbits that had gathered. None of them looked surprised to see Merlin facing her, and many of them looked grateful. Morgana could only guess they'd finally seen how useful Merlin could be.  
  
But it was a pitched battle between them, the broken wizard and the mortal magic-user. At least, until Merlin called lightening down. Nimueh didn't have a chance. When the bolt disappeared, she lay on the ground, dead. Merlin sat down suddenly, completely white. Arthur ran to him and helped him stand.  
  
“I… I need to rest. And food. Food would be good.”  
  
Gwen opened the door and helped the two inside. Morgana walked over to Nimueh and stared at her. She finally covered her face with a shawl someone handed to her and went inside to check on Merlin.  
  
She sipped a cup of tea Gwen handed her, and looked around her former home. It wasn't relief she felt. No, she was empty, drained. The Shire was broken, like the world was broken. It would never be the same. She should have known that, but she had held the hope of a Shire that hadn't changed for months. It was what she had fought for. Now that it was gone, what was she supposed to do? No, she knew what she must do. She would leave, as Gandalf had told her she could shortly before they'd seperated at Bree. She would go to Valinor.


	7. Epilogue

It was three years from the destruction of the Ring to the time Morgana left the Shire to sail to Valinor. It wasn't an easy time, by any stretch of the imagination. Everyone worked hard to repair the damage done by Lotho, Nimueh, and their Men. And yet, Gwen knew the problems here were nothing compared to the devastation Outside. It didn't bear thinking about, for there was nothing she could do to help. Her main focus was replanting the Shire. Galadriel's gift of soil from Lórien and a mallorn seed went a long way toward that end.  
  
But it wasn't enough for Morgana, and she had known that ever since Minas Tirith. Morgana was tired, mortally so. The Ring had drawn on every reserve she had, and she had yet to recover. She didn't even dream of the future anymore, save one repeating dream of a gray rain curtain falling away to a green country. But even that only came twice a year, on the day the Wraith had stabbed her and the day the Ring was destroyed. They at least brought her some small comfort.  
  
Well, so did the family they had started. They kept the promise they had made to each other, and to Arwen. They no longer denied their relationship. It wasn't easy, and Gwen's father was barely speaking to them, though Lancelot was delighted. Half the Shire seemed determined to ignore it, while most of the other half either openly despised them or welcomed them. Within a month of their coming out, half a dozen other couples did the same. But that wasn't the best part: they had adopted an orphaned infant girl they named Elanor. She was a gorgeous blonde, and had a sunny personality. Morgana couldn't help but smile every time she saw her, so Gwen made sure that Elanor was always near her.  
  
But that autumn saw a change. Morgana sat down with Gwen and while their conversation was tearful, it was necessary. Gwen never thought once about leaving her, or regretted loving her. She would do everything in her power to help Morgana, and if that meant staying behind, so be it.  
  
So one day in early autumn, they left Gwen’s father watching Elanor, and they rode off, meeting a large group of Elves on the way to the Grey Havens. Gorlois traveled with Elrond. Gwen was relieved that Morgana wouldn't be alone among strangers. When they reached the shore, only to find Gandalf waiting with Arthur and Merlin, the four of them said their farewells as the Elves boarded the ship. At last, the men drew away and left the two lovers in semi-privacy.  
  
“I'm going to miss you,” Gwen said.  
  
“I know. But I will see you again. You're a Ringbearer, Gwen. You can sail.”  
  
“When I'm ready, I will.”  
  
They kissed farewell, and Morgana boarded the ship, looking more at peace than she had in years. Arthur and Merlin moved to either side of Gwen and each took a hand. They waited at the end of the dock until the sun set and they could no longer see the ship. Only then did they return home.  
  
Years passed, and while Gwen adopted several more children, she never took another lover. Finally, though, she was ready. Elanor had given her their first grandchild early in the spring, and now it was autumn. She was an old woman now, and grateful that Merlin and Arthur were still alive. They traveled with her to the Grey Havens. They said good-bye and when Gwen boarded the ship, she went straight to the prow and didn't look back. She stayed there the entire voyage, not flinching when they left the water for the Straight Road. But when the gray rain curtain disappeared, revealing a green country, she grinned.  
  
It seemed to take forever until the ship docked. She had eyes only for the gray-haired hobbit waiting on the quay. Finally, she was able to leave the ship and ran straight to Morgana. They kissed and when Gwen pulled back to breathe, Morgana smiled, finally looking at peace. “Welcome home, Gwen. Welcome home.”


End file.
